


Tethered to the Story We Must Tell

by theartofbeinganerd



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Future, Alternate Scenes, Appearances of Other Characters, Babies, Brotps, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fantasy AU, Fic Collection, Fluff, Framework, Framework AU, Friends to Lovers, Future fics, Healing, Married FitzSimmons, Missing Scenes, Non-SHIELD AUs, One Night Stand AU, Original Characters - Freeform, Plus Their Grandson Deke, Post Season 4, Post-eps, Potential Triggers, Pregnancy, Sci-Ops Era, Season 2 AU, Season 3 AU, Season 4 AU, Season 5 Post-Ep, Season six speculation, Speculation, Weddings, bed sharing, bit of angst, childhood AU, fake dating au, fix-it fics, genie au, original child character - Freeform, post season five, prompts, season 1 AU, season 5 speculation, team as a family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 98
Words: 265,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartofbeinganerd/pseuds/theartofbeinganerd
Summary: Collection of my fics brought over from tumblr.(*All trigger warnings will be tagged within chapters, at the very beginning*)Latest Ch: Teenage!FS - Pen Pals AU





	1. Post-Framework Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Turning Page" by Sleeping At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written pre-4x19

He was exactly where she’d thought he’d be, exactly as she’d feared; one step into their bunk, and Jemma sighed softly at the sight of Fitz curled up on the far edge of their bed, his shoulders hunched and his back to her. The weight he unfairly carried on his shoulders seemed to weigh on him physically, dragging him down and making him utterly _miserable_ , and Jemma fought back the surge of anger that flared hotly in her chest – anger at the cause of all of this, no matter how just, was not what he needed just then.

With that in mind, Jemma softly closed the door behind her, crossing the small space to perch on the end of the bed. “Fitz?” she prompted gently.

His shoulders rose and fell on a heavy sigh, and Jemma’s heart ached at the brokenness clear in the single sound. She scooted across the bed until she was right behind him and carefully laid a hand on his shoulder. He tensed slightly at the touch, but didn’t shrug it off or pull away, and taking that as a good sign, she cautiously leaned forward to rest her cheek against his back, between his shoulder blades.

As her arms looped around his midsection to hold him to her, she whispered soothingly, “It’ll be alright, Fitz, we’ll make it alright.”

He gave a fierce shake of his head, his body tensing once more. “ _No_ , I…I don’t…I dunno how you can even look at me, Jemma. _I_ can’t even look at me.”

Jemma clenched her eyes shut tightly to hold back the tears welling up, pressing closer to his warmth. “Because I _love_ you,” she reminded him, the words coming out choked. She would _never_ forgive those that had a hand in leading him down this road, leading him to question himself, to destroy his already fragile self-esteem. She _never_ wanted him to doubt that he was caring and loving and kind, and she hated the fact that that had been taken from him.

“ _Why_?” His voice cracked on the word, his desperation clear, and Jemma could no longer hold the tears back. She shuddered with the force of them, burying her face further into his shirt and breathing in the comforting scent of _Fitz_ – the same way he’d smelled since they were sixteen and he was the sweetest, most genuine person she’d ever met, holding her (however awkwardly) when she’d broken down in tears under the pressure she’d placed on herself.

“ _Because_ …because you care so _much_ , you give everything you have to help others, your heart is the biggest and brightest I have ever come across – you are a _good man_ , Leopold Fitz. The very best I know. And no amount of code or mental manipulation could _ever_ change that. I know who you are, in _here_ ,” she blindly found his heart with her right hand, pressing her fingertips against his chest to feel it beating strongly beneath them, “and that is something neither Radcliffe nor AIDA could replicate nor change. I believe in you, Fitz. I trust you, more than anyone or anything.”

There was a sniffle, then another from Fitz as he breathed out a heavy, shuddering breath. He was quiet for a moment, then he asked hoarsely, “More than gravity?” It was obvious that he was attempting to tease her, even if he was still scared of the things he’d been forced to do as ‘the Doctor’, of who he thought he might be somewhere deep down (even though she knew without a doubt he _wasn’t_ ).

Jemma let out a teary laugh, dropping a quick kiss on his shoulder. “More than gravity,” she confirmed.

“More than science?” He sounded slightly skeptical now.

Gently, she disengaged from the half-embrace, maneuvering around until she could climb directly into his lap and gaze into his startled, cloudy blue eyes. He flinched away slightly as their gazes locked, but she refused to allow him to hide, cupping his face between her hands and laying her forehead against his. “I trust you more than science,” she promised, her voice quiet but firm. “If you feel as though you can’t trust yourself, trust _me_ , and know that I trust you implicitly, Fitz. Please, listen to me, nothing of what happened in the Framework was who you really are or what you would really do. That is _not_ the man I love, and if you imply once more that I don’t know you better than I know myself, I will become very upset.”

Hesitantly, his hands rose from where they’d been curled around the edge of the mattress, coming to rest lightly on her thighs. Idly, his thumbs stroked the material of her jeans as he admitted lowly, “I still don’t understand how you can love me after you saw what I did in there.”

“Because it wasn’t _you_ , Fitz,” Jemma insisted, shaking her head. “ _You_ were trapped in a hidden base, hooked up to some bloody computer and programmed into becoming someone you’re not and never could be.” When he still looked unsure, she asked pointedly, “Do you blame Daisy for her actions last year, while under Hive’s control?”

“Of course not,” Fitz answered immediately. “But that’s not –”

“ _Yes_ , it is. It’s exactly the same, Fitz; Daisy had no control over what Hive had her do, just as you had no control over what AIDA had you do. It’s as simple as that, and I hope you eventually are able to understand and accept that. But until that day, trust me and my love and belief in you, for it has never wavered and never will. You’re the man I love, the man I choose to give my heart to, the man I intend to spend the rest of my life with, and you trust my decision-making skills, don’t you?”

“You never make a decision without thinking through all the possible consequences and outcomes first,” Fitz recited absently, nodding. Then, however, his brow furrowed in confusion, and he tilted his head slightly. “Did you…um…did you say ‘spend the rest of my life with’?”

Jemma gave an incredulous little laugh, shaking her head. “ _Fitz_. Does that really come as a surprise? Haven’t I made it clear that you’re the only one I want, the only one I’ll ever want?” When he nodded warily, she went on, “It’s clear to me that the only way I’ll ever be happy, the only future I can ever imagine having, is you and me, together, whatever that looks like.”

“Do you…do you mean…” He seemed afraid to speak the words, gazing at her with wide, cautiously hopeful eyes.

Jemma, however, was tired of beating around the bush, of wasting so much time being afraid to just _talk_ to each other, so she admitted plainly, “I want to marry you, Fitz. I’ve never needed a piece of paper to tell me that I’d be bound to you for the rest of my life, but I do think I’d like calling you my husband. ‘Boyfriend’ has just never had the right weight to match our bond, our unique connection.”

For the first time in what felt like far too long (but in reality had likely only been days), Fitz met her gaze directly, that achingly familiar express of all-consuming love and adoration painted on his face, his lips parted slightly in stunned amazement. After a moment, he inhaled a shaky breath, and asked in a whisper, “You…you want to get married?”

“Of _course_.” There was a ridiculously wide smile on her face, and now that he was letting her, she couldn’t stop touching him; stroking the stubble on his cheeks, tracing the shape of his ears, scratching through the sheared hair on the back of his head. Gazing at him then, she knew with certainty that there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to be married to this wonderful man. “Do you?” She, of course, knew the answer thanks to his LMD, but things had happened since then; though she doubted it, he could’ve changed his mind and she wanted to allow him the opportunity to have his voice be heard.

Fitz scoffed, giving her a look as though she’d grown another head. “You’re kidding me, right? _Jemma_ , I’d marry you today and be nothing but bloody thrilled to have married the most amazing woman in the world. Even just thinking ‘bout calling you my wife…” He released a heavy breath, running his palms along the tops of her thighs. “ _God_ , Jemma…”

Without giving more than a moment’s thought, she said quickly, “Then let’s do it.”

Fitz frowned, cocking his head in confusion. “Do…what?”

“Get married. Right _now_. Coulson has the authority, as a government official, and we have enough witnesses.” Smiling tearfully at the shocked gape on his face, Jemma pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose and murmured, “I don’t want another moment to go by without being married to you, Fitz. _Marry_ _me_.”

He gazed at her in stunned silence for one more moment before he nodded almost frantically, leaning forward to capture her lips in a messy, desperate, passionate kiss. When he broke away from the kiss, he breathed, “God _yes_ , I wanna marry you right now, I want you to be my wife and I want to be your husband. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Unable to help the giddy little laugh bubbling up in her throat, Jemma pressed forward to kiss him once more, then mumbled disbelievingly against his lips, “We’re getting _married_.”

“Yeah…” Fitz breathed, grinning so widely it looked almost painful. He leaned in to kiss her again, but paused halfway there and pulled back to stare at her with wide eyes. “Oh!” Carefully, he lifted her off of his lap and deposited her on the bed, standing up and hurrying over to their dresser. He yanked open the sock drawer, reaching toward the back of his half (which was an absolute _mess_ that Jemma refused to touch until he cleaned it for himself), and letting out a quiet ‘a- _ha_ ’ after a moment. When he turned back to her, he was blushing adorably and explained, “Gotta make it official.”

Then, he dropped down onto one knee and held out a little black box that flipped open to display a modest but absolutely beautiful diamond ring.

Ever since Jemma had realized that Fitz was intending to propose, she’d unconsciously assumed that must mean he had a ring hidden away somewhere, but actually seeing it – seeing _him_ , down on one knee and offering it and the future she so desperately wanted to her – was enough to steal away her breath and cause tears to well up in her eyes.

“Oh _Fitz_ ,” she murmured, laughing tearfully, “I’ve already said yes, you didn’t need to…” She trailed off, gesturing to the classic proposal pose he’d taken.

“This is how I always imagined it,” Fitz insisted, “So just say yes and take the ring, alright? Jemma, will you marry me?”

“Of course, you silly man.” Sliding down off the edge of the bed, Jemma knelt in front of Fitz and wrapped him up in her arms, burying her face between his neck and shoulder and smiling against his skin.

“You didn’t take the ring,” he mumbled into her hair, even though he was holding her just as tightly as she was him.

Pressing a kiss to his neck, Jemma leaned back far enough to meet his eyes, holding out her left hand expectantly. Grinning in adorable excitement, Fitz unwound his arms from around her waist, carefully removing the ring from the box and sliding it purposefully onto her third finger. Once it had hit her knuckle (it fit perfectly, _of course_ ), they both stared at the sight of his ring on her finger silently, taking in how utterly _right_ it looked.

Finally tearing her eyes away, Jemma gave him a swift kiss, then got to her feet, tugging him up after her. “Alright, let’s go find Coulson.”

“Right,” Fitz agreed, but not before reaching down to find her left hand with his right, tangling their fingers and stroking his thumb over the ring.

It didn’t take altogether too long to find Coulson in the lounge, nursing a drink at the counter with May. Mack, Elena, and Daisy were on the couch, and all of them seemed to be catching up on the news of what had happened while they’d been trapped in the Framework.

However, they all looked up when Fitz and Jemma burst into the room, and she announced without preamble, “Sir, we’d like you to marry us.”

Daisy, who had been taking a sip of her beer, nearly choked as her eyes flew wide open. “Are you _serious_?” she gasped out between coughs.

“Quite,” Fitz confirmed, giving Jemma’s hand a squeeze and beaming at her.

Coulson cleared his throat, getting up from his seat on one of the stools and taking a few steps toward them. “Are you sure? With everything that’s happened, maybe it’s not a good idea to be making snap decisions.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this isn’t a snap decision,” Jemma corrected, “I’ve wanted to marry Fitz for…for, well…at the very least, since before we began dating. I know that this is what I want.”

“Me too,” Fitz said firmly, “I’ve been sure about it for a long time.” To prove his point, he lifted their joined hands, displaying the ring on Jemma’s.

“Holy _shit_ , you actually gave it to her!” Daisy cried, jumping up from the couch and hurrying over. “I didn’t think you’d ever get up the nerve.”

“You _knew_?” Jemma asked Daisy in surprise, glancing at a red-faced Fitz.

“I had to take someone with me to help pick it out, and Daisy probably knows you best, after me,” Fitz explained awkwardly.

Jemma wanted to ask more about this mysterious ring shopping trip, but she was distracted when Coulson told them warmly, “Then I would be honored to marry you two.” He paused, glancing around the lounge and the small audience they had, then asked uncertainly, “…Here?”

“ _No_ ,” Daisy said sharply before either of them could answer. “There’s no way Jemma’s getting married in _jeans_.” She grasped Jemma’s free hand, pointedly tugging her away from Fitz. “Give me half an hour, and I’ll get her bride-worthy.” Glancing over her shoulder, she asked Mack with grin, “You’ve got Fitz, right?”

“’Course,” Mack answered with a small but warm smile. “We’ll get you looking good enough to marry, Turbo.”

“So, meet back here in half an hour?” Coulson double-checked, glancing between Fitz and Jemma.

“Actually,” Jemma started, chewing her lip and sharing a glance with Fitz, “I think we’d rather have the ceremony elsewhere.”

“And where’s that?”

Sharing a smile, both answered at the same time, “The lab.”

And that was how, thirty minutes later, Jemma, now dressed in a short, lacy white dress of Daisy’s with a low back and a pair of cute little white flats, her hair done up in a loose bun, found herself lingering outside the door to the lab. Feeling her heart fluttering with anxious excitement in her chest, she peeked around the doorframe, and upon seeing Daisy giving her a huge grin and a thumb’s up, she took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway.

Just a short walk away, Daisy, May, and Mack with his arm around Elena were gathered, Coulson standing behind them with a knowing smile. In front of him stood Fitz, wearing a pressed white shirt and black tie, sport coat over them, and gazing at her with more _love_ than any human body should be able to contain.

Tears were already blurring her vision as she passed by their friends and reached out to take Fitz’s outstretched hand. As soon as their hands were clasped and they were standing face-to-face in front of Coulson, Fitz whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jemma murmured, squeezing his hands.

Coulson moved through the ceremony rather quickly, as per their request to stick to simply the important parts. Jemma wasn’t sure she’d ever been filled with more complete joy than she was at the moment Coulson asked her, “Do you, Jemma Anne Simmons, take Leopold James Fitz to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she answered immediately, though the tears choking her made the words merely more than a whisper.

From the amazed, teary smile on Fitz’s face as he’d said the words as well, Jemma knew that he felt just as full of absolute joy as she did.

Clearing his throat and seeming a bit choked up himself, Coulson gave a little chuckle and went on, “Well, then, with the power vested in me by…well, America, I now – _finally_ – pronounce you husband and wife.” Jemma pressed her lips together to fight back the teary giggles begging to burst through because Fitz was her _husband_ , squeezing his hands once more. “Fitz, you may kiss your bride.”

Gently releasing her hands, Fitz reached up to cup her face in his, tenderly stroking his thumbs over her cheeks before slowly pulling her closer. Her eyes fell closed in anticipation as his lips met hers in an unhurried kiss, his mouth moving over hers as though he intended to memorize everything about this moment, memorize the taste and the texture and the overwhelming feeling of knowing that they were _married_ – Jemma knew that _she_ was. For as long as she lived, the memory of their first kiss as husband and wife would be burned into her.

When at last they broke apart to smile breathlessly at each other, Jemma registered the catcalls that had to be coming from no one other than Daisy, heard the quiet applause of their other friends, and the teasing cry from Elena of, “ _Finally_!”

And _finally_ , Jemma was able to wrap her arms around Fitz, around _her husband_ , and know that though they’d promised last year in a bunk underneath a poster of space that they wouldn’t let anything tear them apart again, now, truly nothing _could_ tear them apart. They were bound together, for better or worse, for as long as they lived, and she dared the _cosmos_ (or anyone else, for that matter) to take her husband, her best friend, her partner, her favorite word, away from her.

She’d like to see them  _try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	2. 4x19 Coda Fic

There’s still a ways to go until they return to the Framework’s version of the Playground when the companionable silence that had descended between them is broken by Trip starting carefully, “Been meaning to ask you…”

Jemma glances up curiously, wondering what in the world this faux (but so, _so_ lifelike it makes it difficult to remember) Trip would have to ask her when – for him, at least – they’ve just met. “Yes?”

Trip doesn’t answer right away, and instead stares contemplatively at the night sky visible outside the quinjet. Finally, he admits, “Ward mentioned it to me – I think he wanted me to be cautious with my trust.” Pausing there, he turns to meet her curious gaze and asks plainly, but also quite gently, “You love him? The Doctor?”

Jemma inhales sharply, fighting back the automatic urge to snap that the man _she_ loved could never be the monster currently wearing his face. However, Trip isn’t accusing her of anything, isn’t questioning her or her sanity as Ward and Mace had. He doesn’t deserve her frustrated anger at the whole situation, at the robotic mastermind behind it all. So, instead, she simply repeats, “Yes,” and waits for his reaction.

Trip nods slowly, obviously mulling the information over. After a moment, he tells her quietly, clearly trying to be gentle with her, “He’s not a good guy, Simmons.”

Jemma immediately shakes her head, rejecting the very idea. “This isn’t really him. Remember what I said about the other world?” When Trip nods, she goes on, her tone fierce, “In that world, Fitz would _never_ hurt anyone, he’s the most kind and caring and loving man I know. I…I understand that that might be hard to believe, but –”

“Not really,” Trip interrupts to say, chuckling. At her clear surprise, he explains with a grin, “You seem like a pretty good judge of character, Simmons, and definitely not the kind of girl to fall for the whole Nazi murderer vibe. If you love him, I gotta believe there’s another world where he’s a pretty great dude.”

Jemma blinks back sudden tears, Trip’s easy acceptance of the truth without an ounce of proof such a breath of fresh air after being shot down and distrusted at every corner since she’d entered the Framework. “Thank you,” she murmurs sincerely.

Trip gives her that big, genuine grin that had so brightened the Playground in their first few, terrible months there after the fall of SHIELD as they knew it, what seems like ages ago now. “Anything you need me to do to help get your guy back?”

Jemma’s heart swells with gratitude, but it is almost instantly followed by a wave of despair; Fitz is hidden away in the heart of HYDRA – how can she possible get to him, to rescue him and awaken him from this nightmare, even with Trip’s help?

The first thought that occurs to her is absurd, and it has a startled little laugh leaving her lips. She isn’t going to give voice to it, but then Trip gives her a questioning look, and she abruptly feels the need to share it, to prolong the amusement she’s feeling instead of letting the constantly threatening hopelessness a chance to sweep back in. “Perhaps just the sight of us together will work – it seemed to bother the ridiculous man enough back in the real world.”

“We not get along?” Trip asks, arching a curious brow.

“Not at the beginning, no.” Jemma rolls her eyes fondly, shaking her head as she thinks back on that first handful of days, when she’d already had the fall of SHIELD and the unrelenting way HYDRA was hunting them to worry about, and then suddenly her best friend was acting so _strangely_ , treating a man who was their friend and ally like the enemy. If only she’d been able to see it for what it had truly been… “He didn’t appreciate your rather flirtatious nature. Of course, back then, I hadn’t the faintest clue how he truly felt about me, so his dislike of you was a complete mystery to me. Eventually, he got past it, though, don’t worry.”

There’s that grin still on his face, accompanied by quiet chuckles slipping past his lips throughout her brief explanation. “Don’t know if asking you to dinner in front of the Doctor would work, but hey, it’s worth a shot, right?” He throws her a teasing wink that has a little laugh bubbling out of her. “If it doesn’t, I’ve got something else that might.”

Picking up on his sudden shift to seriousness, Jemma leans forward and asks, “What is it?”

A smirk curves his lips as he says simply, “Information.”

Hope begins to bloom in Jemma’s chest, though she tamps down on it, not sure she can take yet another crushing disappointment if she allows her hopes to grow too high. “Tell me everything.”

-

It had been Trip’s invaluable information from his stint working undercover at HYDRA that had led Jemma to Alistair Fitz, which had eventually led her to Fitz himself and awakening him from AIDA’s programming to help save their team, to escape the Framework and ultimately put an end to AIDA’s plans.

If it hadn’t been for Trip, Jemma isn’t sure she would still find herself here, wrapped up in the warmth and security of a slumbering Fitz’s embrace. There’s still so much hanging over them, so much healing that needs to take place, conversations they need to have, but at least they’re free of the nightmare that was the Framework. They’re alive and in relatively one piece and most importantly, they’re together.

The novelty of finally having Fitz back where he belongs – with her, where she can wrap him up in her arms and hold him in her heart, protected from twisted robots and terrible fathers that only seek to take advantage of him – hasn’t yet worn off. Normally, Jemma is more than content to fall asleep with this knowledge, her head on his chest to reassure herself with the sound of his soothing and wonderfully _alive_ heartbeat.

But tonight, her thoughts are keeping her awake, and instinctively, she knows what she needs to do.

Pressing a soft kiss to Fitz’s forehead, Jemma whispers a promise to return soon and slips from their bed, from their bunk, until the sound of her bare feet slapping the concrete echoes throughout the dim, empty halls of the Playground.

The route she takes is a familiar one, though shamefully, she can’t remember the last time she’d taken it. It leads her into one of the all-but abandoned rooms of the lower level, though unlike the others, this one isn’t used for storage. It is almost completely empty, save for the collage of rectangular metal plaques nailed to the far wall.

Jemma crosses the freezing floor to step up to the plaques, briefly glancing at the newest addition before turning to the one with ‘Antoine Triplett’ carefully chiseled into it. She presses her fingertips to the cool metal, a watery smile ticking her lips up at the corners.

There’s so much she wants to say; wants to apologize for not coming by in so long, wants to inform him of all the good SHIELD has done since he’s been gone, wants to tell him all about her adventures in the Framework with his counterpart.

However, all that manages to make it past the lump in her throat is, “Thank you,” and she just knows, somehow, that he’ll understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	3. Post Framework + Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a follow-up to ch 1, but can be read alone; written pre-4x20

“Well, that’s the last box,” Mack announced, setting the cardboard box down with a grunt. Though he’d carried it with relative ease, the muted thud it made as it settled onto the hardwood floor revealed its surprising weight.

“Thank you for getting the heavier ones,” Jemma said gratefully, patting Mack’s arm as she passed him, fluttering about the apartment to make sure all of the boxes had been placed in the rooms that matched their carefully written labels.

Mack shrugged off the praise as he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “No problem. Hey, I’ve got to head back to the base to finish up those repairs for Coulson. Congratulations again, you two.”

“Thanks Mack,” Fitz said with a smile and nod. “See you soon.”

With a final wave, Mack headed out the door and out of the apartment building, where Elena was no doubt waiting impatiently for him. The only one left lingering after being wrangled into helping them move the last of their things from the Playground to their new apartment was Daisy. As Jemma roped Fitz into finally beginning the long process of unpacking, Daisy meandered through the apartment, studying the various paint samples Jemma had taped up whenever she’d found a spare moment throughout the past week.

Jemma happened upon her while she was speculatively eyeing the spare bedroom, which was empty of both boxes and paint samples – she and Fitz weren’t quite decided on what to do with it yet. As Jemma came to stand beside her, Daisy threw a wry smirk at her and said mischievously, “Well, you’ve got a ring, you’ve got a cozy little apartment – I think I know what comes next.”

Flustered by the implication that seemed to come out of nowhere, Jemma could only pretend that she had no idea what Daisy was getting at as she attempted to get her thoughts back in order. “What are you talking about?”

Daisy rolled her eyes, not buying it for a second, but still she nodded to the far right wall and commented, “Man, a crib would look _great_ over there, wouldn’t it?”

Jemma flushed, crossing her arms over her chest as she told Daisy firmly, “Yes, perhaps, but not for some time.”

“Ah.” A little grin played on Daisy’s lips as she elbowed Jemma teasingly. “But it’s not a never?”

Pressing her lips together, Jemma tried to hide the awed little smile that seemed to appear on her face every time she imagined the possibility. She wasn’t sure she was successful, given how Daisy’s grin only grew wider. “No, it’s not a never.”

“Good, because that would be a _huge_ waste of potential.” Daisy playfully hip-checked her before heading down the hall back into the main room, where Fitz was unpacking a rather large stack of books. She cleared her throat pointedly, gaining his attention as well, then admitted, “Okay, so I’ve got a housewarming-slash-belated wedding present for you guys, since y’know, you eloped and didn’t give us much notice ahead of time.”

“You didn’t have to get us anything,” Fitz told her, his brow furrowed.

“But I wanted to,” Daisy insisted, searching through the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a rectangular object, wrapped in newspaper, and apologized sheepishly, “I didn’t really have time to wrap it.”

Jemma took the gift from her, going to stand beside Fitz as she carefully unwrapped the newspaper. Inside was a simple silver frame, which contained a picture obviously taken during the brief but lovely little ceremony she and Fitz had had in the Playground’s lab a little over a month prior. The photo was clearly snapped moments after they’d shared their first kiss, heads still bent close together and their eyes only for each other, the complete and utter love they shared for each other and their clear awe and joy at finally being married written all over their faces.

“ _Daisy_ ,” Jemma gasped, tears welling in her eyes at the not only the gesture, but the picture that had her heart swelling in her chest and making it difficult to breathe. “I didn’t know you took pictures.”

“ _Duh_ , you think I’m gonna go to my best friends’ wedding and not take a crap-ton of pictures? As if there was ever a moment that needed documenting more than that one.” Daisy gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “I chose that one because it was my favorite, but if you want I’ll send you the rest of them in case there’s one you like better.”

“I doubt there will be, but I’d like to have them regardless.” Jemma turned to Fitz excitedly as an idea struck her. “Oh! We could make a photo album! And of course we’ll have to send copies to your mum and my parents. Perhaps if they have pictures, they’ll be less upset about not being there for it.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Fitz agreed with a nod. “Though I’m pretty sure my mum’ll still give me an earful about it every time I speak to her for the next…oh, maybe twenty years or so.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jemma told him, a little grin playing on her lips. “I’d say ten years at the very most.”

“That’s very reassuring, thank you.”

Chuckling to herself, Daisy took a couple steps toward the door as she said, “Alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, I guess.”

“Not without hugs you won’t.” Jemma hurried to follow Daisy, catching her in a tight hug. “Thank you so much for the gift; it’s _perfect_.”

“I figured you’d think so.” After disengaging from the embrace, she tugged Fitz into one. “I’m really, really happy for you guys.”

“Thanks,” Fitz murmured, giving her one last squeeze before stepping back.

Daisy opened the front door, though once in the doorway she turned back to face them. “I’ll see you guys bright and early Monday morning, right? Because I’m totally excited that you’re moving in together and all that, but if I don’t get to still see my favorite nerds almost every day, I’m gonna be pretty peeved.”

“Of course you will,” Fitz assured her immediately.

“We’ll even have you over for dinner after we’ve gotten everything sorted,” Jemma promised. “Don’t worry, we’d miss you just as much.”

Daisy’s answering smile was warm as she said softly, “Good. Okay, I’m really going now. See you guys later.”

“Bye Daisy!”

They both waved until she’d shut the door behind her, then Jemma turned to Fitz with a brilliant smile.

“What?” he asked with an amused chuckle.

“I know the perfect place for this!” Jemma told him, gesturing to the picture she still held in her hand. Crossing the room, she stepped up the mantel and carefully set the frame in the center of it. “Ta- _da_!” She stepped back to get a good look at the mantel, bare except for the picture frame, and grinned at Fitz. “Now it’s perfect.”

“So that’s it then?” Fitz teased. “We’re all unpacked and moved in?’

Jemma rolled her eyes at him. “Ugh _Fitz_! Don’t be ridiculous. Why don’t you start working on the bedroom, and I’ll get started on the kitchen.” As Fitz began to go follow the request that wasn’t actually a request, she called after him, “Oh, and Fitz, if I come to check on you, I _better_ not find you napping.”

“ _What_? I would _never_ –” He cut himself off at Jemma’s disbelieving glare, and instead muttered, “Fine, I’ll stay awake, no matter how boring unpacking is.”

She grabbed his hand and reeled him back in to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”  She squeezed his hand, then gave him a gentle push in the direction of the bedroom.

Jemma spent the next hour or so in the kitchen, unpacking dishes and silverware, keeping a mental note of all the things they’d need to purchase soon that they hadn’t needed while living at the Playground, cookware and the like. By the time she was placing their last Dr. Who mug in the cupboard, Jemma was a bit startled to realize that so much time had passed without Fitz appearing to complain that he was _starving_ and needed a snack.

Figuring that it was worth investigating (especially if she found him passed out on their unmade bed like he’d _promised_ he wouldn’t be), Jemma briefly abandoned the boxes in the kitchen to find Fitz. She paused, however, in the living room when she noticed that the mantel was strangely empty once more.

Growing a bit concerned, Jemma quickly continued to the master bedroom. When she peered inside, however, all she found were a couple of boxes mostly unpacked, dresser drawers left open and half-filled with socks and pajamas.

Acting on a hunch she couldn’t quite explain, Jemma checked the spare bedroom next, and she paused in the doorway when she found Fitz curled up in one of the far corners. Their missing wedding picture was held delicately in his hands, and though he was gazing down at it, she could tell his thoughts were a million miles away.

Crossing the room, she sank to the floor beside him, scooting closer until her shoulder was pressed to his. After a beat of silence, she asked softly, “What is it, Fitz?”

He didn’t answer at first, and Jemma noticed his thumbs absently tracing the shiny silver frame. Finally, he sighed quietly and asked, “D’you…ever think maybe we rushed into this?”

Jemma’s chest tightened, a cold, uncomfortable feeling slithering through her stomach. “Absolutely not.” Her response was immediate, firm, and left no room for the doubt he was so clearly struggling with.

Fitz lifted his head to finally meet her eyes, and the fear in his caused Jemma to suck in a quiet breath. “But _why_?”

“Fitz…” She cupped his face between her hands, pulling him in close until his forehead rested against hers. “We talked about all of this _before_ we got married. Remember? I told you that I’d never stopped trusting you, that you were who I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I’ve known for many, many years now that our futures would always be entwined, the _how_ just changed along the way. But I have never doubted that you were where my future lay, Fitz. What’s got you so in your head about this all of a sudden?”

Fitz heaved a quiet but heavy sigh, his eyes slipping shut. “I…I heard you and Daisy talking about…about this room and…”

“Oh.” Jemma blinked, feeling a little blush heat her cheeks as she pulled back to get a better look at his face, taking her hands back to hook them nervously around her neck. They’d only been married for a month now, and things had always been too busy (what with moving into their apartment finally and always having to save the world) for them to really sit down and talk about… _that_. “Do you… Is that…not what you want?”

Fitz reopened his eyes then, though they immediately dropped back to the picture still in his lap. He seemed to be gathering his words for a moment, then he started slowly, “Every time I’d ever thought about having kids someday…it was always there in the back of my mind, a question, a concern. But I thought, y’know, it’d be easy enough to get past, and I’d be so happy ‘bout being a father it wouldn’t matter – we’d figure it out together, like we always do.”

“We would,” Jemma promised gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his knee.

“You’d have nothing to figure out for yourself, of course,” Fitz told her quietly, shaking his head. “You’d be a great mum already. But me? I mean, after being…in _there_ , and seeing what it would’ve been like with him around, what he brought out in me… I always thought I was more like my mum, but what if it’s just always been in me, and the right circumstances would bring it out? What if I become _him_?”

“That could _never_ happen,” Jemma argued fiercely, barely allowing him to finish the question before the words burst out of her. “Fitz, you were programmed, _brainwashed_. That wasn’t a ‘what if’ scenario, it was a twisted fantasy created by a machine gone wrong.”

“But what if there was some truth to it?” Fitz insisted, his jaw clenching and his shoulders tensing, and Jemma could tell that this had been bothering him for some time; she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before now. “I just can’t help but think maybe it was selfish of me, marrying you, because I can’t offer you… _this_ ,” he gestured widely to the room around them, “even though you deserve to have it.”

“You stop that right now, Leopold Fitz,” Jemma ordered, “because you could _never_ turn into him. Are you listening to me? _Never_. AIDA may have put him back in your life to create the monster she wanted in the Framework, but do you remember what you did when push came to shove and lives were on the line?”

She waited a beat, hoping Fitz would answer, but he remained steadfastly silent, staring forlornly down at their wedding picture.

“The right thing,” she finished, giving his knee a squeeze to try and get him to look at her, but he continued to keep his head bowed. “You broke through the programming, you fought, and you proved that you are a good person deep down inside, where _he_ could never touch. Your heart is good, Fitz, but more than that, it’s big and bright and so full of love, even after everything you’ve been through.”

“I only broke through ‘cause you were in danger,” Fitz muttered, obviously thinking that proved nothing, when in fact it was the exact opposite.

“Yes, _exactly_.” Jemma gave a slightly watery, incredulous laugh as she gently grasped his chin in her hand, turning him to face her. “Because that’s who you _are_. You give everything you have for the ones you love, for people you don’t even _know_ and never will, and never ask for anything in return. Would _he_ ever do that?”

Fitz scoffed. “’Course not.” When Jemma arched an eyebrow at him, he insisted lowly, “That doesn’t prove anything. It could just be hidden down even deeper inside me, just waiting to get out and start the whole cycle over. I…I _can’t_ become that, Jem.”

“And you _won’t_.” Clearly, Fitz was either deliberately ignoring the fact that him being so afraid of hurting their child showed that he was the furthest thing from his father, or he really was so terrified that he wasn’t thinking straight. Either way, stating the facts didn’t seem to be getting through to him, so Jemma tried a different tract. “Fitz, tell me honestly, if I were to say right now that I was pregnant, that you were going to be a father, how would you feel about the child?”

Fitz’s eyes grew wide, his head jerking back slightly as he gaped at her, gaze shooting between her face and her stomach. “Uh…”

Subtly, Jemma rolled her eyes, refusing to answer the unspoken question until he answered hers. “Tell me, Fitz.”

“I’d…um…I’d be scared…isn’t that what I’ve just been saying?”

“Not about becoming a father,” she corrected. “How would you feel about our _baby_?”

Fitz swallowed visibly, growing silent as he seemed to mull the question over. Then, an awed little grin began to tug at the corners of his lips. “I’d…I’d love ‘em, of course. I wouldn’t be able to wait until I could hold them in my arms and rock them to sleep and take them to the zoo to look at monkeys and teach them everything I know.”

“Would you ever let anyone hurt them?”

“ _Never_. I’d rather die than let anyone hurt our baby.” The conviction in his voice had Jemma blinking back tears.

“See? Fitz, don’t you understand, he was _never_ a father because he couldn’t look past himself and his own issues to realize that his first job as a father was to _protect_ you. In fact, he failed so spectacularly at it that _he_ was the one you needed protection from. That isn’t a father. But you, you would _never_ let anyone hurt our child, you would protect them as completely as you’ve protected me and our friends, and that includes from yourself – though I know for a fact that that could never be an issue. Just as there’s no one else I would rather be married to, there’s no one else I’d rather be the father of my children. Do you believe me?”

Fitz gazed into her open, honest eyes for a long moment until his expression softened and a tiny smile curved his lips. “Yeah,” he answered softly. “I’m sorry for…y’know…freaking out.”

“It’s understandable,” Jemma assured him, waving away his concerns. “Honestly, we should’ve talked about this a long time ago, and I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring it up in those first few days after we returned from the Framework.” She paused, idly stroking her thumb along the line of his jaw, then asked, “Fitz, will you promise me that you’ll come to me the next time something’s weighing on you like this? I may be your wife now, but I was your best friend first – that means I’m doubly the person you go to when something’s bothering you. We need to be able to talk to each other.”

“I know that,” Fitz insisted, “really, I was gonna bring it up soon, but we’ve been so busy and I didn’t want to bother you with it –”

“Your feelings are _never_ a bother to me.”

“Yeah, well, same goes for you.” He playfully nudged her shoulder with his. “And uh…speaking of talking about stuff…” He cleared his throat, making a bit of a face as he went on, “Was that a…uh…metaphorical baby, earlier? Or…”

“Ugh _Fitz_.” Jemma dropped her head back lightly to bump against the wall, rolling her eyes. “Of _course_ it was a metaphorical baby! If you heard my conversation with Daisy, then you must’ve heard me say ‘not for some time’.”

“I _did_ ,” Fitz said defensively, “but I just had to be sure you didn’t say that to Daisy to get her to quit bugging you or something. I mean, I’d be happy if it was true, but…then we’d _really_ be rushing things, huh?”

Jemma laughed, allowing her head to fall to rest on his shoulder. “Oh, definitely. Let’s take some time to breathe before we check off another huge life event, alright?”

“Sounds good to me.” Fitz dropped his head to gently rest on top of hers, cheek pressed to her hair. “Hey Jemma?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if I made it sound like I regretted marrying you, ‘cause I don’t. Not even a little bit. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made and probably ever will make.” He gently tapped a finger against the corner of the frame he still held. “Best day of my life, by _far_.”

“I never thought that,” Jemma assured him, reaching out to touch the frame as well, lightly trailing her fingertips over Fitz’s adoring expression, captured on film. “Honestly, does that look like the face of someone that regrets their decisions?”

Fitz chuckled, turning his head slightly to drop a kiss along her hairline. “Definitely not. _That’s_ the faceof someone that’s just won the marriage lottery.”

Jemma turned to hide her smile against his neck, sliding her fingers across the picture until they found his, lacing them together. “Funny, I was just thinking that same thing about myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	4. Framework + Pregnancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written pre-4x20 for the tumblr prompt: "framework fitz finds out Jemmas pregnant! And obvi its his".

“There you are!”

Startled, Jemma whirled around to find Daisy just entering the Playground through the entrance from the hangar, looking more than a little frazzled. “What are you still doing here?” she demanded. “May told me that takeoff was in an hour, no exceptions.”

Daisy scoffed, taking a few steps closer until they could speak in lowered voices so as not to be overheard. “Yeah, because I’m gonna leave you here. C’mon, Jemma.” She paused, then asked worriedly, “Where did you disappear to, anyway?”

Jemma bit back a grimace as she thought back on her little _conversation_ with Alistair Fitz, but ultimately decided that it wasn’t worth getting into at the moment. “Just something that needed to be done.”

Daisy’s worry didn’t disappear, and instead only seemed to increase as she lowered her gaze, her brow furrowing. “Have you been feeling alright?”

Confused at the question, Jemma answered a bit uncertainly, “I’m fine…why? Are you alright?”

“What? Yeah, no, I’m fine, but I just keep seeing you with your hand on your stomach like that,” she gestured to Jemma’s midsection. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about it. Are you sick?”

Taken completely aback, Jemma quickly dropped her gaze, and sure enough, her right hand was resting protectively over her stomach. Hastily, she dropped the hand back to her side and repeated, “I’m fine. None of this is real, after all – how could I possibly get sick?”

Daisy scoffed. “This place may be fake, but _man_ does it feel real – especially when you’re getting the crap kicked out of you.”

Jemma winced in sympathy, pointedly keeping to herself the way her back still twinged a bit from crossing paths with Fitz’s vile father. “Yes, I can imagine so.”

She could tell by the knowing glint in Daisy’s eye that her little white lies hadn’t gone over very well with one of the few people that knew her best, but she was saved from further questions on the subject when the door to the hangar slid open once more and an impatient May gestured for them to hurry up.

Daisy shot one last look at Jemma, but ultimately let the subject go and followed May back into the hangar, Jemma close behind.

Though her body ached from that morning (and truly, from all she’d been through in the few days she’d spent in the Framework so far), at least she’d left the nausea and bone-deep exhaustion that had so recently begun to plague her back in the real world. At least the secret she’d been keeping for what felt like ages but was really just a short time now was safe, her body lying undisturbed back on the Zephyr with Elena and the other agents watching over it.

In a world where things had gone so quickly from bad to worse, at the very least she knew that no matter what her body went through in the virtual world, her little secret was safe – well, except from the one thing that _none_ of them were truly safe from, made so very real with Mace’s death.

When they touched down at the incredibly ordinary, unassuming warehouse that Radcliffe had promised Daisy would hold an escape from the Framework, it was with guns drawn and extreme caution. After all, it had been Radcliffe who told Jemma that his backdoor had already been closed by AIDA, only for him to tell Daisy a different story the next day; they could very well be walking into a trap.

“We’ve got a lot of ground to cover,” Coulson told them in an undertone, “we want to clear this place as soon as possible and get you two out so we can pull the plug on AIDA’s plans before she can pull the plug on us.”

“You all know what to do,” May added, giving them a firm nod.

There were answering nods of understanding, and then Jemma was heading off into the semi-darkness, though she paused when Daisy called lowly after her, “Jemma, wait.” When she turned back, Daisy offered with thinly veiled concern, “You want me to come with you?”

Perhaps she hadn’t kept her secret as well as she’d thought.

Forcing back the anxious fear that Daisy had somehow figured her out, Jemma tried to keep her voice even as she replied, “We need to split up and finish this as quickly as possible, Daisy. I’ll be fine.”

Daisy chewed her bottom lip briefly, but then nodded. “Okay. Okay, just…call for help if you need it.”

“I’ve got this,” Jemma promised her with a sincere smile, touched by her concern. When Daisy gave her a tiny smile in response, Jemma continued deeper into the warehouse, scanning every shadow and listening for even the tiniest of noises. She was on high alert for anything –

Which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a gun cocking somewhere close behind her.

Swallowing thickly and shakily lifting her hands over her head, Jemma wondered wildly how the hell she was going to get out of this one. If she called for help, as Daisy had suggested, whoever it was would shoot her for sure, but she didn’t have a whole lot of options – after all, she didn’t think she could reason with a piece of code programmed to believe it was a HYDRA stooge.

Then, she heard it.

“Drop the weapon and turn around. _Slowly_.”

Her heart began racing in her chest, her eyes briefly slipping closed as she allowed herself a moment to soak in the sound of him (had it only been days? It felt as though _years_ had passed since she’d last heard his beloved voice) before she complied, carefully setting down her gun and slowly (so slowly it felt like an eternity passed) turning to face him.

“ _Fitz_ ,” she breathed, stubbornly blinking back the tears that burned at the rims of her eyes. It was the most twisted of wish fulfillments, finally laying eyes on Fitz, having the perfect opportunity to free him of the Framework’s brainwashing, and it was with a gun in his hand that was pointed right at her heart.

“I don’t want to hear any of your lies,” he told her coldly, empty eyes narrowed, “I’ve already heard it all. I know what you are.”

“I’d never lie to you,” Jemma promised, shaking her head sadly. Though he didn’t remember who he was, let alone who she was or what they meant to each other, she didn’t possess an ounce of fear at the gun trained on her because she believed in and trusted the hand that held it to never harm her.

Perhaps she should’ve been afraid (she’d been positive, after all, that he couldn’t kill Agnes, and yet he had), but Jemma was not afraid of him, could _never_ be afraid of Fitz. She knew his heart in a way no one else could ever claim to, knew it intimately and fully as though it was her own (and it _was_ ; she’d owned his heart for far longer than she’d even been aware), and she knew that his heart didn’t possess the evil it would take to pull that trigger.

“You need to remember,” she said gently, though her tone was firm, “ _please_ , Fitz. You need you to remember the man you are inside, the man AIDA could never take away or destroy, the man I _love_.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he insisted sharply, though Jemma noticed that his hand had begun to tremble, his expression unsure and brow furrowed in mild confusion. Pressing her advantage, Jemma took a couple slow steps closer to him, but Fitz clearly did not like this. “Stay back or I’ll shoot,” he warned her tightly.

“Ugh _Fitz_ , if you were going to shoot me, you already would have,” Jemma informed him exasperatedly.

“Can you be so sure?” he questioned, eyes still narrowed in a tight glare.

Jemma, of course, _was_ sure, but that didn’t account for accidents and Fitz’s trigger finger was looking pretty shaky at the moment. “Fitz, _please_ , listen to me: I want you to put the gun down, because you’ll already have so much guilt that you don’t deserve for the things AIDA has made you do; I know that the guilt of _this_ would break you, and you’d never forgive yourself for hurting me…” She paused then, inhaling a steadying breath, and went on, “Or our baby.”

Fitz took an automatic step back, eyes darting down to where she was protectively covering her stomach once more. He was visibly shaken, his expression so very _Fitz_ for a moment that hope began to bubble up in her chest. But then he shook his head sharply and snapped, “I’ve never even met you, let alone _impregnated_ you. No matter what lies you tell, it won’t stop me from stopping _you_.”

Though he was trying to put up a front, trying so desperately to cling to his cold indifference, Jemma could see beyond his mask to the uncertainty and fear he couldn’t hide from her. She stepped closer, closer, until the barrel of the gun was pressed tight to her chest, then murmured, “ _Fitz_ , it’s time to come back to me.”

His gaze grew cloudy, and she wondered if he was seeing a memory he didn’t remember making, if he was seeing her bloody and beaten with her head on his shoulder, whispering those same words, the same desperate plea for him to return to where he belonged.

“Come back to me,” she continued, “for our apartment with its breakfast nook and the fresh start we deserve. Come back to me for Perthshire someday and the little cottage that will be waiting for us to make it a home. Come back to me, to our baby, because we need you – now more than ever.”

Finally, _finally_ , as Fitz slowly lowered the gun, Jemma gently cupped his head in her hands and tugged him down to find his lips with hers.  His body responded immediately, his subconscious clearly remembering the feel of her lips against his even if he didn’t quite yet, and it was the first time in the last (endless) few days that Jemma truly felt that everything was going to be alright.

She could tell the moment that _something_ (whether it be memories or their unshakeable bond) kicked in, the clatter of a his gun hitting the concrete floor followed almost instantly by his hands gripping her hips with a gentle desperation that was so completely _Fitz_ (not the empty murderer AIDA and his father had warped him into) that she smiled into the kiss, tightening her grip on his neck.

Some time passed before Jemma could manage to tear herself from him (there was still an evil robot to stop, despite how much she would rather spend the next week or so just kissing Fitz), and when she did, Fitz whispered brokenly, though with pure _love_ coating the one word, “ _Jemma_.”

-

Days had passed now since they’d all escaped from the Framework, successfully managing to stop AIDA and the upgraded Superior, and Jemma had reached the end of her rope.

The first few days had been spent with everyone in and out of medical as the damage done to the Playground was assessed, and since then Fitz had been tied up in the resulting repairs while Jemma had had to first get her wounds fixed up, then help the understaffed medical team with the others that came through.

It was understandable that they hadn’t been able to spend much time together recently, let alone have a spare minute to talk when they were both out cold as soon as their heads hit the pillow (usually at different times). Yet, every time there was a chance to speak about a certain _revelation_ she’d made in the Framework, something always seemed to come up.

Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure he _remembered_ said revelation – she’d found out from the others who had been kidnapped and programmed with new lives and memories that what they’d experienced in the Framework was mostly hazy and confusing. However, she was almost sure that his over-the-top concern for her after being awoken in the Superior’s base was rather damning.

After a long day spent in the med bay fixing up the last of the injuries, Jemma had decided that she was _done_ tiptoeing around the subject; they were discussing this whether Fitz wanted to or not. It wasn’t as if it was going away, after all.

She found him already in bed, his back facing the door of their bunk and his shoulder rising and falling as though he was already deeply asleep – Jemma knew better. She’d known the man since he was sixteen, and she sure as hell could tell when he was faking sleep (she refused to think about _why_ he might be faking sleep, not yet).

“Fitz,” she said firmly, walking around the end of the bed to sit on her side of the mattress, “I know you’re awake. We need to talk.”

There was no response at first, but then he released a heavy breath and without opening his eyes, asked, “’Bout what?”

“What I told you, in the Framework.”

Another stretch of silence followed. “What’d you tell me?” he eventually asked.

Not in the mood to drag it out any longer, Jemma replied plainly, “That I was pregnant.” When his only response was another heaving sigh, she had her answer. “So you do remember.”

“Yeah,” he said lowly. He opened his eyes then, though still refused to meet her searching gaze, instead dropping them to rest on her stomach. “I…um…I’m sorry I haven’t… I mean, it’s just…I wasn’t sure if it was…or if you just said it to try and snap me out of it, or…” Abruptly, he rolled onto his back and lifted both hands to drag over his face, muttering into them, “I was scared that it was true because…because I was pointing a bloody _gun_ at you, threatening to shoot you, and it was my bloody fault you were in the Framework in the first place, putting yourself in danger. And of course, can’t forget the fact that my bloody LMD was st… _stabbing_ you and…” Apparently unable to go on, he just shook his head, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“Fitz,” Jemma murmured, reaching out to wrap her fingers around each of his wrists, gently tugging them until his hands were no longer covering his face and he was gazing up at her with naked terror and shame. “You can’t blame yourself for anything that’s happened. You were programmed, brainwashed, and manipulated – and don’t even get me started on how what your LMD did has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you.”

“Jemma,” Fitz said incredulously, shaking his head once more as tears began to pool in his eyes, “I was going to _shoot_ you.”

“You were never going to shoot me,” she said confidently, sliding her grip up from his wrists to cradle his hands within hers.

“How can you be so sure?” Fitz blinked a couple times, a few of the tears managing to slip free. Jemma lifted one of her hands, still joined with his, to wipe them from his cheeks with the backs of her fingers.

She shrugged lightly, a warm smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Because you may have had a new, darker personality forced inside of you, but looking at your face, into the eyes of that shy, sweet, brilliant boy I met at the Academy all those years ago, I knew it was still _you_ , hidden down deep. I knew that that boy, who had grown into the man I love more than I could ever begin to express, would never _ever_ harm me. It’s like I said before all of this, ‘we’re more than our programming’, and your heart is stronger than whatever AIDA did to you. I never doubted that, or you.”

Staring up at her in wonder, Fitz slowly shook his head, murmuring, “I dunno how, but…but _thank you_. I should’ve known that when I lost faith in myself, you’d still have more than enough to spare.”

“Yes, well, I _am_ your biggest supporter and cheerleader,” Jemma teased, giving his hands a little squeeze. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that.” Sniffling back the tears, Fitz gave her a little grin and used their joined hands to tug her closer. “So, uh…about that whole…pregnant thing…?”

Jemma rolled her eyes in fond exasperation and pointed out, “There was something else I said in the Framework that you seem to have forgotten – do you remember me saying I’d never lie to you?”

“Yeah…” Fitz’s eyebrows rose, a cautious hope beginning to build in his eyes.

“That includes about something as huge as a _baby_ , Fitz. You know me better than that.” He pressed his lips together, still looking unsure, so she put it plainly, “Yes Fitz, I _am_ pregnant.”

The way his entire face lit up, a slow grin growing and growing until it reached his eyes, had Jemma’s heart filling with warmth, a soft laugh of pure joy slipping past her lips. “I’m…gonna be a dad,” he whispered to himself, disbelief and happiness coloring his tone in equal parts. “We’re gonna have a _baby_.”

“That’s what tends to happen, yes,” she teased, unable to help the answering grin curving her lips. Unexpectedly, Fitz used his grip on her hands to tug her closer once more, nearly sending her toppling onto his chest. “Fitz! _What_ –” He dropped her hands in favor of grasping her hips, pulling her the last bit closer until he could rest his head in her lap, forehead pressed to her still-slim stomach.

“Hi baby,” he whispered against the material of her shirt, thumbs absently stroking the skin of her waist beneath it. “I’m your dad, and your mum and I are gonna love you so much that you’ll never know what it’s like to be alone, to be scared, or unwanted, I _promise_ you that.”

Choking back tears, Jemma grasped the back of his head, bending slightly to kiss whatever part of him she could reach, lips finding his ear, his jaw, his neck. She wasn’t sure of what was going to happen next, wasn’t sure what the future looked like now that things had taken such an abrupt and unexpected turn, but there was one thing she was certain of: Fitz’s heart, strong enough and full of enough love to carry them through whatever challenges faced them.

Together, _they_ were strong enough to get through anything – and after ninety feet of ocean and crossing the universe and brainwashing robots, dirty nappies and terrible twos and temper tantrums were going to be a piece of _cake_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	5. 4x20 What If

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A "what if" rewrite of the Fitzsimmons scene in 4x20

Jemma Simmons has been to hell, she has lived six months in hell, she has faced down the “demon” that called that hell a home.

That was nothing compared to this.

Her throat burns every time she swallows, her heart is pounding so rapidly in her chest it aches, and her leg is on fire because the love of her life just _shot_ her. But it isn’t the pain that makes this hell, or the fact that it’s Fitz wielding the gun – what makes it hell is the fact that there doesn’t seem to be anything she can do to wake him up. He’s pointing a gun at her, saying all these vile things the _real_ Fitz would never say, and all she can think is how horribly _awful_ he’s going to feel when he’s free of the Framework.

She knows guilt, knows it intimately, and she knows that whether or not he deserves it, the guilt of what he’s done here will haunt him – and there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing she can do about it.

Crying openly for the way her heart is breaking in her chest, for the way she can’t seem to save him this time, Jemma begs softly, “Please. You don’t have to do this.”

His cold, empty eyes continue to stare straight through her, gun trained on her head in a hand shaking with barely contained rage. What has AIDA done to him, what has she done to twist and pervert the brightest of lights into such darkness and evil? Where has she hidden the man he truly is, the man she knew better than she knew herself?

Accepting that he’s buried too deep for her to reach, Jemma wants to tell him one last time, in the hopes that when he awakens from this hell and remembers what he’s done, he’ll know that she never stopped loving him, that she never gave up on or forgot the man he truly was.

“I love you,” she tells him, voice strong but so weak with desperation, filled with all the consuming, ever-growing (even now, _always_ ) love for him she holds inside her body, inside her heart where she keeps it safe and nurtured from the evil that seems to be waiting for them at every turn.

He narrows his eyes, parts his lips to no doubt spit more poison –

But it never comes.

Fitz blinks a couple times, eyes tightening into slits as his brow furrows, his hand beginning to shake more noticeably. The agent with him steps up from beside Radcliffe, asking uncertainly, “Sir?”

Fitz turns to face the man quickly, as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. He shakes his head, as though he’s trying to shake away some distracting thought, and Jemma watches with interest. “Uh, yeah, m’fine.” He waves the agent off, who reluctantly steps back, still seeming concerned by his boss’s strange attitude.

“Fitz?” she questions carefully, not allowing anymore hope to well up inside of her just to be crushed again; she was already in enough pain, both physical and emotional, and she couldn’t open herself up to the possibility of any more.

He turns back to her abruptly, staring at her as though he’s laying eyes on her for the first time, blinking rapidly now. For a long, breathless moment, he just continues to stare at her, studying her. Then, she sees it, like the sun shining through the clouds after a thunderstorm – that _look_ , the one he reserves just for her, his heart worn open and vulnerable on his face, in his eyes, bursting with all the love he feels for her.

It’s _Fitz_. Not the Doctor, not the product of AIDA and his father’s manipulations – _her_ Fitz.

And when he breathes, “ _Jemma_ ,” in the way only he can, his gun-wielding hand dropping to his side, Jemma can’t help the tiny sob she lets out as hope and relief and _love_ surge throughout her entire body.

Just as she’s attempting to stumble back to her feet, she freezes at the sound of a gunshot, wide eyes desperately searching Fitz, who had flinched at the sound, for blood, for any kind of injury. He seems to be doing the same with her, and when their eyes lock, the relief to find the other unharmed is evident in both their gazes.

Jemma then catches sight of Radcliffe, who had apparently wrangled the HYDRA agent to the ground before he could shoot someone – whether it be picking up his boss’s slack with the “subversive”, or to take out said boss now that he’d apparently gone mad. Either way, Radcliffe picks up the man’s fallen gun, knocking him over the head with it before telling them, “You’ve got to go _now_.”

Fitz still looks hopelessly confused, watching as Radcliffe helps Jemma back to her feet. “Go? Go where? What’s…what’s going on?”

Quietly, Radcliffe admits to Jemma, “I’m sorry, for everything, truly. I did the only thing I could think of, to save him.”

“Thank you,” Jemma murmurs, not quite ready to forgive him for getting them into this big ugly mess in the first place, but grateful for him getting Fitz to her nonetheless. She leaves Radcliffe’s support to limp over to Fitz, taking his hand in hers (ignoring the way her heart skips a beat at finally having his skin against hers for the first time in what feels like forever – they’ve got a world to get back to and lives to save). “Do you trust me?” she asks seriously.

“I do,” Fitz answers automatically, as though the words are ripped from his lips without his permission. His brow furrows and he frowns deeply. “I…I shouldn’t. Why…?”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” she promises, beginning to lead him toward the door, out toward where Daisy is waiting to open the portal back to the real world.

Radcliffe stops them briefly, grasping Fitz’s shoulder as he tells him firmly, “None of this was your fault, my boy. Remember that. The only one at fault here was me.”

Fitz seems to grow only more confused, but nods anyway in response before Jemma continues leading him to the portal. She sees Daisy and Mack to her left, and nods to a startled but smiling Daisy, who returns it and begins to quake the portal open.

Jemma turns to Fitz, grasping his arms to support herself, but also to cling to him, to hold on tight to him lest someone else come and try to take him away from her – she refuses to allow that to happen ever again. His hands cup her elbows, his blue eyes begging her for answers to why his thoughts are jumbled, why he’s feeling things he’d never have dreamed of feeling just yesterday, why he trusts someone he’d wanted to kill not more than ten minutes ago.

Fire flares in her throat as she swallows down her fear for what will happen after she loses sight of him once more, her rib cage aches fiercely as her heart beats a desperate rhythm as though it is trying to escape and return to him, where it belongs, and her leg threatens to give out beneath her without Fitz’s unwavering support, given despite everything inside of him likely telling him not to trust her.

But as Jemma squeezes his upper arms and feels his fingers tighten around hers in response, as she stares unblinkingly into the eyes she loves more than anything and they go falling off the precipice together – _together_ , just like they’ve always done things – she remembers the most important thing Maveth had taught her –

No place could ever be hell as long as Fitz is there beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	6. Post-College AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-College Roommates AU

It was well after the sun had risen, the rapidly increasing humidity was causing her tank top and shorts to cling to her skin, and to boot, her refreshing cup of tea was long gone. The morning was _not_ going as Jemma had planned.

With a sigh, she once more checked her phone for any kind of message letting her know that her new roommate was running late, but there was still nothing. Irritation began to rise up inside of her, and her thumbs were poised to start typing a strongly worded text, letting her roommate know that it was bad form to leave someone waiting outside in the stifling summer heat when she heard a call of, “Jemma?!”

Quickly lifting her gaze from the screen of her phone, Jemma noticed a girl with short brunette hair and carrying a brown paper bag squinting at her from across the street. When Jemma raised her hand in greeting, the girl immediately grinned, hurrying right across the road without bothering to check for traffic. Alarmed, Jemma stood from her seat on one of her cardboard boxes, shooting a concerned look to either side of the road.

“Don’t worry,” the girl, Daisy, as the ad had mentioned, said with a careless wave. “It’s early, and besides, only assholes speed in neighborhoods.” Then, as if she hadn’t just casually risked her life, she thrust the paper bag at a stunned Jemma. “Here, I got us doughnuts to apologize for my lateness. I’m not really used to getting up early, so I slept through my alarm. And the alarm after that, and the alarm after that.”

“That’s…um…” Jemma frowned down at the bag now in her hand, grimacing at the idea of the all sugar packed into the pastries. Clearing her throat, she said politely, “Thank you.” Holding out her hand, she added, “I’m Jemma Simmons.”

Daisy let out an amused laugh even as she took Jemma’s hand in hers, shaking it. “Yeah, I kinda got that. Daisy Johnson. Thanks for answering my ad, by the way. You really saved my life.”

Jemma smiled a bit more genuinely at that. “Oh no, you saved _my_ life. With the end of my time at university in sight, I’d thought about everything _except_ for where I was going to be living once the semester was over.” Unable to help her curiosity, she asked carefully, “If I may…why was it so imperative that you find a roommate so quickly?”

“ _That_ ,” Daisy started, sitting heavily on the other cardboard box Jemma had left on the curb (which was marked “fragile” and contained much of the glassware and other tools she used in her experiments, and Jemma could barely contain her flinch in response), “is one hell of a story.”

“Oh?” Jemma questioned, sitting carefully back down on her other box, marked “clothes”.

Daisy nodded solemnly, snatching the paper bag back that Jemma had set down and pulling a frosted doughnut out. She offered it to her, and not wanting to be rude when she was making first impressions, Jemma accepted it, even though she cringed all throughout her consumption of the sugary treat. “So, I was dating this bastard, but like I didn’t know he was a bastard in the beginning obviously. So anyway, eventually his asshole side started to show, and I was getting so sick of it, but really the final straw was when he said some shitty stuff about me and my brother tried to defend me, and my ex all-but _attacked_ him. So, I broke up with him and moved out of the apartment we were sharing, but I didn’t think it through because I had nowhere else to go. Then I came across this place and was told that I’d need a roommate ASAP if I was going to be able to afford it.” She gestured needlessly toward the small but cozy condo townhouse they were sitting in front of.

“Oh, you didn’t mention you had a brother,” Jemma commented, eyebrows rising in mild interest. It really wasn’t surprising, given that they’d only spoken through brief emails and later texts, but it was easier than commenting on Daisy’s seemingly terrible love life.

“Yeah,” Daisy answered with a wide grin that made it obvious how much she loved her brother. “Well, technically he’s my foster brother because his mom took me in when we were both just barely teenagers, but in every way that counts he’s my brother. Actually, he should be here soon.” As she said it, she checked the watch on her wrist, her lips tugging down at the corners. However, her smile was back in an instant, and she told Jemma brightly, “He’ll totally help you move your stuff too. I’ve acquired his services for the full day.”

“That’s very kind, thank you.” Jemma was more than a little caught off guard by the casual offer, having expected that she would just end up driving back and forth across town, hauling boxes from her dorm to her car to the condo until her arms felt as though they were going to fall off.

“No problem,” Daisy replied easily, jumping up and digging around in the pocket of her shorts for something. A moment later, her hand came back with the key that Jemma had lacked to be able to enter the building. “For now, we can get this stuff inside, and I can make myself a note to get you a copy of this key so we don’t ever have this problem again.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jemma agreed with a laugh, though it turned into a huff of exertion as she struggled to lift her box of experiment supplies. Daisy easily hefted her other box, shifting to rest it on one hip as she unlocked the door and led the way inside the house that Jemma had only seen in pictures before then. Letting out a breath of relief as she set her box down in the middle of the living room, she swiped the back of her hand across her forehead to get rid of the sweat gathering there and glanced around. “It looks even lovelier than it did in the pictures.”

“Yeah!” Daisy’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Jemma felt a smile curling her lips in response. “With some furniture and some decorating, it’ll look totally awesome.” Her grin turned almost… _devious_ then, and she added in a stage-whisper, “Don’t worry, I’ve got dibs on all the furniture that dumbass and I had in our apartment, so no eating off of a plastic table and sitting on a blow-up sofa for a week for us.”

Jemma hesitated a moment, still a bit taken aback by Daisy’s blunt and blasé attitude, but then she smiled and simply said, “What a relief.” Still a bit concerned about the fragile contents of her box, she knelt down and carefully peeled open the flaps, sighing in relief when she saw that everything was as it should be.

“Wait…did you seriously bring clothes and _science stuff_ as your essentials?”

At Daisy’s disbelieving question, Jemma glanced guiltily up from where she’d been inspecting a beaker. “They _are_ essential,” she defended, though it came out rather weak.

Much to her surprise, Daisy burst into laughter, and she shook her head as she informed Jemma, “Man, you’re _totally_ gonna get along with him.”

“With who?”

Before Daisy could answer her question, there was a call from outside of, “Daisy? Where the hell are you? You promised you’d be waiting outside you wanker!”

Daisy met Jemma’s gaze, giving a rather fierce roll of her eyes, as though she was supposed to understand what was going on and would be sympathetic to Daisy’s annoyance. “We’re in here!” she shouted in reply to the voice (that Jemma couldn’t help but notice had a familiar accent).

A moment later, a man with a head of short but messy curls and unshaven cheeks peered through the door of the condo. His gaze immediately landed on Daisy, and he let out a rather impressive groan as he entered fully. “Any particular reason I needed to get up at the crack of dawn and drive halfway across town?”

“My roommate wanted to get an early start,” Daisy shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Besides, you said you owed me, remember? This is you paying up.”

“I said I owed you eight years ago! And I hardly think helping you move is an equal favor to you giving me a stick of _gum_!” The obvious exasperation in his voice, combined with the familial bickering that Jemma had missed dearly since departing from England caused a giggle to pass her lips unbidden.

Immediately, the man turned to look at her in astonishment, and she noticed a brilliant red blush creeping up his neck and cheeks, his eyes growing steadily wider as it seemed to hit him that she’d been a witness to the conversation.

Snorting in amusement at his reaction, Daisy replied teasingly, “Hey, that wasn’t just gum, it was _Juicy Fruit_ and it was my last stick, Fitzy. Totally equal.” Then, she clapped him on the shoulder and gestured to Jemma. “Fitz, this is my new roommate, Jemma Simmons. Jemma, this is my brother, Fitz.”

“Hello,” Jemma greeted him politely, a little smile ticking the corners of her mouth up.

“Uh…hey,” he replied distractedly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Daisy can I…um…talk to you for a second?”

Daisy’s eyebrow arched at that, but she still nodded, gesturing toward the front door. She gave Jemma an alarmingly wide grin over her shoulder as she followed her brother outside. Left suddenly alone in the house, Jemma glanced around for a moment, then decided to take a tour of the rest of the place.

She was just about finished looking around the two bedrooms upstairs (and already had plans ready for both of them, since she’d allowed Daisy to choose which one she wanted) when she heard Daisy call up the stairs, “Jemma?”

“Yes?” Jemma replied, hurrying out of the room and down the stairs to where Daisy was waiting in the kitchen, Fitz nowhere in sight.

“Hey so is it alright if I send Fitz with you to help with your stuff? My friend Trip just agreed to give me a hand, and working in teams of two will definitely make this whole thing go much faster.”

Jemma frowned, glancing toward the still open front door as she replied hesitantly, “If it’s alright with him.” After all, he hadn’t seemed all that enthused about meeting her, let alone making a handful of drives across town with her.

However, Daisy quickly waved away her worries. “Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s just being a dork like always. He’s happy to help you, I promise.”

“Alright,” Jemma agreed, a bit more firmly this time. “Then I’m ready when he is.”

And that was how Jemma found herself sitting in the driver’s seat of the SUV she’d borrowed from her university-roommate-turned-best-friend Bobbi Morse (since it was much better for moving than her tiny little environmentally-sound car) with Fitz in the passenger seat, studiously avoiding her gaze and practically ignoring each and every one of her attempts at conversation.

By the time that they’d moved all of the boxes from her dorm to the condo (completed in only two trips, rather than the three she’d calculated), Jemma was quite sure that Fitz hated her, despite the fact that he didn’t even know her.

It was just the two of them at the house, since they’d seemed to have just missed Daisy and Trip on each of their trips, and as he yet again simply grunted in response to one of her questions, she felt her irritation with his unexplained hatred of her boil up. She was tired and sweaty and still had so much unpacking to do before she could settle in with a good book for the night, and she couldn’t really help it when she broke, fairly snapping at him, “Look, I don’t know what you think I did to you, but I can assure you that your treatment of me is undeserved! I’m a nice person, I stop for pedestrians and I donate blood regularly and I _never_ take pennies from the ‘take a penny, leave a penny’ dish! Where do you get off making assumptions about people before you even know them?!”

Fitz was gaping at her in horrified disbelief, still clutching two of the mugs that made up her odd collection that he was unpacking in the kitchen. For a long moment, his mouth moved wordlessly, jaw working up and down, then he suddenly blurted out, “I don’t _hate_ you! I just didn’t realize that _you_ were Daisy’s new roommate and I don’t know what to say to you and you’re bloody brilliant and –”

Shaking her head rapidly, Jemma held up a hand to stop his rambling, her head spinning as she tried to process what he was sputtering out. “Hold on, do we know each other?”

“Uh…” His blush from earlier was back, and it somehow seemed to have intensified, spreading up to the tips of his ears now. “We…uh…well, I was in your chemistry class. And your biology class. And I think we had a history class together. And we always seemed to eat lunch at the same time.  And sometimes we ended up studying in the same café.”

Jemma blinked a couple times as the shock caused by his confession set in. “No,” she said immediately, shaking her head, because she couldn’t have seen Fitz _that_ many times and still not have recognized him that morning. She wasn’t shallow by any means, and she wanted to believe that if she’d shared three classes with him, she would’ve certainly remembered him.

“Yeah,” he assured her, dropping his head, but she still caught sight of his bashful smile. “I…well, I kinda made it a bit hard for you notice me. I sat in the back all the time and used to hide behind my computer at the café or the jock table in the cafeteria, so…”

Brow furrowing in confusion at his most recent admission, she couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

Fitz grimaced, looking a bit silly as he shrugged, her mismatched set of Harry Potter mugs still in his hands. “I don’t know. ‘Cause I was…intimidated by you, I guess. Like I said, you’re bloody brilliant.”

Jemma felt her cheeks warming with a blush of their own, and she ducked her head to hide it, her stomach twisting with an odd combination of delight and excitement. “Thank you.” When she glanced up, her breath caught in throat as she noticed the way Fitz was staring at her, his blue eyes burning into her in a way that made a boiling heat fill her from her head to her toes – and it was the furthest thing from unpleasant, even in the gross sticky humidity of the day. Suddenly, she had a very good idea of why Fitz had hidden from her, besides being intimidated by her brain. Taking a deep breath and leap of faith, Jemma ignored all rational thought telling her that it was a bad idea to get involved with her roommate’s brother, and blurted out, “Dinner.”

Fitz frowned in confusion, his gaze dropping to the box of dishware he was unpacking. “Uh, I’m not sure you’ll be cooking dinner in here tonight. Especially if Daisy doesn’t have any pots or pans. Which, if I know Daisy as well as I think I do, she _doesn’t_.”

Embarrassed by her ridiculous attempt at playing it cool, she cleared her throat and tried again, “I meant, would you…like to go to dinner sometime? With…with me?”

Fitz’s jaw dropped open, his eyes popping wide once more, and Jemma cringed as she imagined what he must be thinking of her just then, asking out someone that was not only mostly a stranger, but also her brand new roommate’s brother. Then, he blinked rapidly and nodded almost dumbly.

“Really?” Jemma asked in surprise. “You want to?”

“Yes!” They both winced a bit at the volume of his enthusiastic reply, but then a grin was tugging at her lips as he groaned in embarrassment. “I mean, yeah good. Good. Sounds good.”

“Good,” she murmured, her grin only growing as he blushed. Through his blush, a smile of his own appeared in response to hers. As she felt the surge of lightheartedness that came only with the beginning of something new and thrilling but still waiting to be discovered, Jemma thanked her lucky stars yet again for finding Daisy’s ad (though this time, it had less to do with finding a place to live so quickly, and more to do with her new roommate’s brother’s shy smile and invitingly kind blue eyes).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	7. Pregnancy Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr; "Fitzsimmons, where Simmons tells fitz she's pregnant by doing something super cute. Then fast forward to a gender reveal kinda thing to the whole team".

Hearing the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor of their apartment, Jemma hastily closed her laptop and grabbed the two cups of tea she’d already prepared, curling up in the breakfast nook to wait. Her hands were shaking with barely-contained excitement, and she had to force her beaming grin into a more acceptable smile of greeting as Fitz appeared in the doorway to their little kitchen.

“’Morning,” he said distractedly, still doing up the buttons of his shirt, jacket draped over his arm.

“Good morning,” she replied, tilting her head up to receive the quick kiss he gave her. “I made tea.”

Fitz accepted the plain white mug from her, taking an immediate sip and sighing in relief before he told her sincerely, “Thanks, Jem, you’re the best.”

“Just doing my wifely duties,” Jemma teased, absently toying with the rings on her left hand as she carefully watched him drinking the tea. “And well, I was up first – I know the drill.”

Fitz shot her an amused grin, taking another long drink before setting the mug back down on the table of the breakfast nook, half-finished. “I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to get on over to the Playground to get started on those upgrades for Coulson. I’ll see you there later?”

A bit frantically, Jemma held out the half-empty mug to Fitz and asked, “Don’t you want to finish your tea first?”

“Don’t have the time,” Fitz admitted apologetically, shrugging on his jacket and bending over to drop a kiss on her forehead. “See you later, Jemma. Love you.”

Sighing, Jemma sank a bit in her seat, watching his back as he hurried out of the kitchen and grabbed the backpack of tools and supplies he always left by their front door. “I love you too,” she called half-heartedly, and she forced a smile as Fitz waved over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.

For a long moment, she simply sat there, dejectedly staring at the mugs left on the table, then with a heavy sigh, she stood and picked up the one she’d chosen special for Fitz. She drained the rest of the tea into the sink, making the message engraved on the very bottom of the inside visible – “ _you’re going to be a dad!_ ”

Leaning one elbow heavily on the counter, Jemma stared sadly at the cute little mug she’d ordered especially for this exact occasion, and thought back to the website she’d found it on. Of all the suggestions and ideas she’d come across in her research, none of them had mentioned what to do if the father-to-be didn’t actually _see_ the message.

She allowed herself another moment to lament the perfect moment she’d spent _days_ (a week and a half, to be exact, when she’d gotten the results from her blood test that she’d already been expecting after a missing period and random bouts of nausea) imagining, before she straightened up with renewed purpose.

There was always tomorrow, after all.

-

 _A week_.

Jemma had used the same damn mug for a _week_ , and Fitz had yet to notice that there was something _written_ inside of it. Every morning he seemed to be either running late and therefore in a hurry, or already had his head in thoughts of the work he needed to do once he got to the Playground and didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Either way, he was still entirely unaware of her pregnancy, and this was _not_ going how Jemma had planned at all.

But, Jemma Fitzsimmons was anything but a quitter, and she was _going_ to announce her pregnancy to her husband so adorably that it would be a story they’d tell for years, no matter what it took.

With that in mind, Jemma abandoned the idea of the mug and stepped it up a bit, leaving the Playground early to make a special purchase while Fitz was out on a quick mission with Daisy and Mack.

By the time he came home that night, she was waiting in their bedroom, wearing one of his button-up shirts and draped across their bed. There was a seductive little smile playing on her lips…

Until Fitz came shuffling into the room, nearly dead on his feet and covered in dozens of little cuts and bruises.

Immediately, Jemma sat up in concern, momentarily forgetting about her plans. “Fitz! Are you alright? What happened?”

At first, her only response was a low groan as he fell face first onto the mattress, still fully clothed, though he sluggishly kicked his shoes off to land on the floor at the end of the bed. Then, he turned his head, face still half-buried in the blankets, to mutter, “What d’you think? I swear, Coulson needs to stop using the words ‘quick’ and ‘easy’ to describe ops.”

“But you’re alright?” she pressed, needing to reassure herself by hearing the words.

Fitz gave her a small smile, nodding as best he could with most of his face pressed into the mattress. “M’fine. Just a bit sore.”

Jemma let out a quiet breath of relief, and it was only moments before a sly grin was tugging at her lips as she tried to get the night back on track. “I can help with that, if you’d like.”

Fitz’s brow furrowed as he squinted in confusion at her, but he seemed to get it pretty quickly after that, and much to Jemma’s disappointment, he winced apologetically. “Not that I’m not interested, but I’m not sure I could even _move_ right now. I think I just need some sleep; rain check, though?”

Blinking back tears of frustration, Jemma smiled much more genuinely than she felt and nodded quickly. “Of course! You get some sleep, Fitz. I’m just…” She trailed off, scrambling off of the bed and hurriedly leaving the room without a further explanation.

Once she was safely ensconced in the bathroom, Jemma unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it into the hamper, turning sharply to avoid the image in the mirror of her bare stomach, the word “ _surprise!_ ” painted on there, along with multiple arrows pointing directly to her uterus and where their baby was currently growing.

As she began scrubbing off the paint and fought against the disappointment surging through her, Jemma realized that perhaps she was going about this wrong; if it was work keeping him busy and distracted, then she’d just have to use that to her advantage.

-

A couple of days later, Jemma was at her station in the lab, watching out of the corner of her eye for Fitz to return and find what she’d left on his desk the moment he’d been called away to Coulson’s office. She was _sure_ that this would be the one; after all, what else could he possibly think was going on?

However, her attention shifted when Agent Crawford dropped off some new samples that needed to be tested as soon as possible. She completed the analysis relatively quickly, and had the results ready to go within twenty minutes – enough time, apparently for Fitz to have returned without her notice.

He was hunched over his desk, eyes narrowed and tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, the very image of intense concentration on her husband – and the present she’d left on the desk was now missing.

Trying to keep her rapidly increasing heartbeat under control, Jemma hurried across the space between their desks and came to a stop beside him. She didn’t even have to announce her presence before Fitz greeted absently over his shoulder, “Hey, check this out, I think I’ve finally got that EMP disrupter for Coulson’s hand stabilized.”

Jemma barely glanced at the bit of machinery in his hands before replying, “That’s fantastic, Fitz. Have you –”

“Applied it to the new model yet? No, I was just about to, actually,” Fitz cut in to (incorrectly) answer her unfinished question. He carefully set the tech and his tools down on the desk, finally turning to her completely. “Y’know, the strangest thing just happened – someone left a whole bunch of books on _babies_ on my desk.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can see _someone_ here’s going to be doing some expanding soon – in more ways than one.” When he elbowed her playfully at the joke, she laughed weakly. “They must’ve put them down on my desk for a moment and then forgot about it, but I dropped ‘em off in the common room where they’ll hopefully find them.”

“Hopefully,” Jemma repeated tightly, already crossing today’s venture off of her mental list.

-

After a long day of working with Fitz on repairing Daisy’s damaged gauntlets then doing a grueling analysis on the rather destructive powers of the (potential) Inhuman that had caused said damage – and of course, being pregnant, which was utterly exhausting in and of itself – Jemma was absolutely drained by the time she returned to their apartment that night. Fitz was still held up finishing at the Playground, and normally she’d wait up for him, but that was off the table for tonight; she loved Fitz more than anything (well…almost anything), but some things were just more important.

However, even though she was already half-asleep, Jemma was not going to waste a single opportunity to get through the thick skull of her husband (even if this attempt wasn’t the most well thought out of her plans), so before she allowed her head to hit the pillow, she left him a little something on his.

When she woke up the next morning, it was to the sight of a sleepy Fitz smiling down at where she was curled up on his chest. Suddenly remembering the surprise she’d left him, Jemma felt her heart leap with hope as she said searchingly, “Good morning…”

“’Morning.” One of his hands came up to brush away a wayward strand of hair from her cheek. Abruptly, he made a face at her. “Hey, y’know, I don’t mind you reading your gross biology books in bed, but try to keep ‘em on your side, will you? I really don’t need to be having nightmares of cat livers, or any other organs for that matter.”

Jemma’s incredulous gaze darted to the side table next to her end of the bed, and sure enough, the biology text that she’d left open on his pillow to the section about egg fertilization was now closed and resting there instead.

_Seriously?!_

Letting out a groan of annoyance, she abruptly rolled away from a confused Fitz and climbed out of bed to go empty her bladder – Fitz may still not have a clue that she was pregnant, but she didn’t have the same luxury.

-

The following Sunday was Father’s Day, traditionally not one of Fitz’s favorite days of the year, which was why Jemma was so sure that using it to her advantage was the perfect way to turn a bad memory into a good one (and _finally_ share the news that she was so desperate to give him – this _had_ to be the one that would get through to him, she was sure of it).

They’d just finished breakfast, and as Jemma was carrying their dirty dishes to the sink, she called over her shoulder to Fitz, “Oh, I forgot to check the mail yesterday. Could you…?”

“Sure thing,” Fitz replied easily, stepping briefly out of their apartment and returning a few minutes later, flicking through their mail.

With bated breath, Jemma watched, pressing her lips together to hide her smile when he paused on a particular piece.

“What the…?” Fitz frowned, absently tossing the rest of the mail onto the end table next to the couch as he focused on the one in his hand. It was a card, “ _Happy Father’s Day!_ ” printed in bright bold letters on the front. He flipped it over to glance at the plain back, but found no name or writing of any kind. “That’s strange…” He held up the card to display for Jemma. “Must’ve been put in the wrong mailbox. S’too bad – if there was a name or something, I could pass it along to whoever it was meant for.”

And with a small shrug, Fitz then unceremoniously tossed the card in the nearest bin.

The spoon Jemma had been holding clattered noisily into the sink, clearly startling Fitz, but she was too caught up in complete and utter _disbelief_ to care. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, she decided that enough was enough and the time for subtlety was over.

By tomorrow night, Fitz was _going_ to know about her pregnancy, even if she had to make up a banner that said ‘ _I’m pregnant you fool!_ ’ and hang it above their front door.

-

The next night, Jemma was curled up in their bed, tablet in hand to try and look preoccupied as she waited impatiently for Fitz to join her and happen upon the final clue that she was going to give him before she just snapped and told him plainly that she was pregnant and seriously worried about his intellectual status as a genius.

It was another few minutes before Fitz entered the room, and they shared a tired smile as he climbed into bed beside her. Predictably, he fluffed his pillow to get it more comfortable, then laid his head down…

“What the… _hell_?” Frowning, Fitz sat up a bit, leaning his weight on his elbow and reaching under the pillow. When his hand came back, it was curled around a handful of pregnancy tests, all positive. “Uh…” Nearly dropping the tests in his haste, Fitz sat up fully and turned to gape at Jemma.

Arching an eyebrow, Jemma nodded to the tests and said dryly, “You better put those back under there – I’ve heard if you leave a positive pregnancy test under your pillow, a stork will bring you a baby in nine months.”

Fitz blinked a couple of times, seeming about to speak several times but no words came. Finally, the first thing out of his mouth was, “Did you really just say ‘ _stork_ ’?”

Not missing a beat, Jemma replied, “Oh, I absolutely did. I figured if you were so ridiculously oblivious that you hadn’t noticed what I’ve been trying to tell you for _weeks_ now, then you must be oblivious enough that you don’t know where babies come from.”

“Of _course_ I –” Fitz’s thunderstruck expression melted into one of confusion. “Wait, _weeks_? When did you…?” Then, his eyes grew wide and he groaned. “Oh bloody _hell_ , the baby books and…and the _card_ and… _shit_ , the bloody biology textbook. It never even occurred to me…”

“Clearly.” Rolling her eyes fondly, Jemma couldn’t help but add, “And you forgot the calendar in the kitchen – I circled my due date in red right after I found out.”

“ _That’s_ what that meant.” Fitz covered his face with a hand and groaned again. “I thought I forgot something important somehow, but I reckoned I had nine months to figure it out…” Dropping his hand back into his lap, he winced and muttered, “Okay, I guess I am pretty oblivious.”

A smile beginning to tug at her lips, Jemma set her tablet aside and patted Fitz’s arm. “It’s alright, I’ll still have your baby anyway.”

Fitz went silent, gaze dropping back to the pregnancy tests he still held, then moving to zero in on her stomach. “ _Baby_ ,” he repeated, the idea of what this all meant finally seeming to hit him. “Holy…” The tests fell to the blankets, forgotten, as Fitz pulled Jemma into the circle of his arms. “We’re having a _baby_. A _baby_ …” He couldn’t seem to stop himself from repeating the word over and over, amazement coloring his voice.

Jemma buried her beaming smile into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Yes, we are,” she murmured into his skin. “You have no idea how hard it’s been waiting to tell you.” Her body beginning to shake with barely-contained laughter, she admitted, “I wanted to have a cute story to tell everyone about how you found out, but I almost think this is better.”

Letting out a low moan of despair, Fitz asked, “You’re going to tell everyone we know, aren’t you? Daisy’s _never_ gonna let me live this down.”

In response, Jemma simply pulled back slightly so that he could see her mischievous smirk.

-

A few months later, when Jemma’s stomach had swollen into a rapidly growing little baby bump, they’d gathered their friends in the lab once everyone else had left for the day. The very same websites that had suggested the unique pregnancy announcements Jemma had attempted to use on Fitz had also mentioned the idea of gender reveal parties, and something about the idea had stood out to her. Perhaps the biggest part of her decision to go through with it though, was that they seemed to have so few things to celebrate while working with SHIELD, and making a bigger deal out of those few things usually went a ways in making up for that.

But, of course, just because Jemma was taking tips from parenting sites didn’t mean they couldn’t make the idea their own.

As she slipped a pair of safety goggles over her head, Jemma asked May, “Are you ready?”

May, who had agreed to hold the information of their baby’s gender until today, nodded and held up the two covered beakers Jemma had prepared earlier that day. There were two sets of them, one that contained the chemicals necessary to create a blue solution, and the other pink. She’d pointed out which was which to May, and then left the rest up to her.

“Now Fitz, in case you don’t understand, pink means a _girl_ and blue means a _boy_ ,” Daisy explained slowly through the huge grin on her face. The story of Fitz’s unbelievable obliviousness had become something of an ongoing joke around the Playground, particularly with their team; Daisy especially seemed keen to never let him forget it, just as Fitz had predicted.

“ _Ha-ha_ ,” Fitz muttered, throwing a scowl in Daisy’s direction, to which she responded by sticking out her tongue.

“It is a bit archaic,” Jemma admitted, accepting one of the beakers from May with a grateful smile, “but it is a good way to get the word out to our friends and family. And I’ll admit, I do enjoy the surprise element of it all – it’s exciting.”

As Fitz slipped his own goggles over his head and received the second beaker from May, he double-checked with Daisy, “You’re ready to film, right? We’ll never hear the end of it from our families if this isn’t documented for them to witness as well.”

“Ready!” Daisy confirmed, giving him a thumb’s up with one hand, the other holding up her phone.

“Okay,” Jemma started, turning to Fitz with a breathlessly excited smile, “on three?”

He nodded in agreement, and they began to count down together, “One, two, three…”

And on three, they both emptied the contents of their beakers into the third waiting on the lab bench in front of them. The reaction began instantly, and within moments, the beaker contained a brilliant pink solution.

Blinking back tears, Jemma shared a watery grin with Fitz as the lab filled with calls of congratulations from the others (and a cry of “Baby dresses here I come!” from Daisy). She wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, burying her face in his shoulder (well, as best she could while still wearing her goggles).

“Don’t need to tell me that one twice,” Fitz teased quietly, bringing one of his hands around to press against her rounded stomach, which they now knew housed their daughter.

Jemma let out a teary laugh, shaking her head as she pulled back to meet his eyes, practically glowing with happiness. Finally tugging her goggles off and carefully pushing Fitz’s onto the top of his head, she leaned up to kiss him, both of them smiling into it. “What a relief,” she murmured against his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	8. Post Framework + Drunk FS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a part of my second blog anniversary celebration, for the prompt: "fitzsimmons get drunk after the framework".

It used to be something of a tradition between them; after a hard day in the lab, if their latest project had failed in the testing phase, if they found themselves stumped on how to solve a problem, or if the day had just seemed to drag on, they’d break out the alcohol and shut their brains off for a little while. Usually, by the time they returned to the lab (late) the next morning, they’d have the solution they needed or a fresh take on a project that would lead to the inevitable breakthrough.

But, it had been more than a hard day, it had been a hard few _weeks_ , and Jemma wasn’t sure that alcohol could fix this, but she was terrified of the idea that _nothing_ could fix this and she steadfastly refused to allow this to be the thing that broke them, not after everything else they’d been through.

With that in mind and no other ideas to speak of, Jemma stocked up on bottles of something _strong_ and texted Fitz to meet her in their still-empty apartment, told him that there was something of great urgency they needed to discuss. She received no reply, but she knew Fitz (even still, even after he was convinced he was someone else, even after he thought he no longer knew himself) and she knew he’d show up regardless, just because she’d asked.

Sure enough, not twenty minutes later, the front door opened slowly and Fitz stuck his head in, looking unsure. “Hey,” he greeted quietly. “What did you…” He seemed to notice then that Jemma was sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, surrounded by bottles of alcohol.

“Remember how we used to solve our problems?” Jemma asked leadingly, arching an eyebrow and waving a bottle at him.

Fitz sighed, though thankfully he stepped fully into the apartment and closed the door behind him. “Jemma, come on, we’re not kids anymore. I think this is a bit different from the DWARFs failing the first time we tested them or when you and bloody Milton broke up.”

“Perhaps,” Jemma agreed, pointedly patting the floor beside her. “But wouldn’t it be nice to just turn your brain off for a little bit? I promise I won’t even try to take your trousers off.”

Fitz let out a snort as he finally moved to sit beside her, and Jemma had to fight the relieved grin begging to curve her lips. “Oh right, _now_ you promise that, when I _wouldn’t_ be embarrassed for you to see my pants.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been embarrassed back then either,” she teased, throwing in a wink that had him blushing in a way she’d missed _dearly_ (when was the last time she’d seen him blush? She’d barely seen him over the past few weeks, and she was quite sure that his Framework counterpart didn’t blush at _all_ , let alone around her). She opened the first bottle, offering it to him as she hoped fiercely that this was the first step they needed to take for a brighter tomorrow (well, figuratively speaking, given that _tomorrow_ , they’d likely have hangovers from hell).

And things were looking up as, sometime later, they found themselves passing a half-empty bottle between them (with a few empty ones abandoned nearby) and snorting with unrestrained laughter, their whole bodies shaking with it.

“B-but it wasn’t a cat!” Jemma practically shrieked, tears in her eyes and her stomach aching. “Remember? It was…it was a _skunk_ and then –” She cut herself off there, giggling too much to go on.

“I screamed like a _girl_!” Fitz finished the story for her, bending over double as he howled with laughter.

“The other cadets teased you about it for _weeks_ ,” she reminded him, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth to try and muffle her laughter. She remembered, vaguely, that this wasn’t the Boiler Room or even the Playground with its thick walls, and there were people around trying to sleep. She didn’t _know_ these people, but she was almost sure that they were still there regardless.

“’Specially you,” he said, pointing a wobbly finger at her and narrowing his eyes, but the glare was gone in an instant, replaced with the big beaming grin he only let out when he was completely and utterly _wasted_. “But I didn’t care ‘bout you teasin’ me ‘cause you’re _Jemma_.”

“I’m _Jemma_ ,” she told him firmly, poking herself in the chest hard enough to cause her to wince. “I’m Jemma Simmons, PhD, PhD, PhD.”

“You don’t have _three_ ,” Fitz was quick to correct her, his tone accusatory.

“I _could_ have three if I wanted to,” she snapped back petulantly. “Why…don’t I have three?” She couldn’t quite remember the reason why she’d stopped at two at that moment, no matter how hard she tried. She _deserved_ to have three PhDs though, she knew that much.

Fitz shrugged widely, taking another drink from the bottle and setting it back down inelegantly. “Dunno.”

“Must’ve not wanted to make you feel too bad about yourself,” Jemma teased, smirking as Fitz’s expression slowly grew more and more thunderstruck. “What with your _one_ degree and all.”

“Oh now tha’ is _not true_! I could have just as many as you if I wanted!” He pursed his lips thoughtfully then, and he said suddenly, “I think I’d rather have a monkey though.”

“Always with the _monkey_ ,” she muttered, making a face at him.

Fitz didn’t seem too concerned with the monkey anymore, though, as he let out a groan and held a hand up to his head. “Hey, is…is the room spinnin’?” He closed his eyes tightly, swaying back and forth slightly. “Or am I?”

Jemma squinted at him, then the room around them and answered unsurely, “Um…neither, I think?”

“Tha’s not good.” And with no other warning, he fell backwards onto the floor, his arms flopping unceremoniously out above his head. “ _Ow_.” One of his wayward hands knocked into the nearby bottle, causing it to tip it over and spill its contents onto the floor. “Oh _shit_!”

“Oh _no_.” Jemma scrambled for something to mop up the mess with, but she was quickly reminded that the apartment was completely empty, when it should’ve been their home. Suddenly, she wasn’t feeling so happy. “Why won’t you let us have towels?”

Fitz blinked, peering up at her in confusion. “Uh…what?”

“There should be towels,” Jemma explained, feeling her chin begin to wobble as she pointed harshly toward their empty kitchen. “But there _aren’t_ because you don’t wanna live with me anymore.”

“Uh…” Fitz was at a clear loss what to say, blinking sluggishly and obviously struggling to keep up with her sudden mood change. “What?” he finally repeated.

“You don’t…don’t wanna _live_ with me and…” She sniffed loudly, the tears coming fast and hot now as sorrow hit her like a truck. “And you d-don’t wanna m-marry me,” she managed to finish before curling herself up around her knees and burying her face in them as she tried to choke back the sobs building in her throat.

Through the sound of her cries, Jemma heard Fitz’s quiet voice from where he was still lying on his back. “Jemma…” His tone was softer, sadder, and he’d clearly caught up to her in the emotional downward spiral. “Don’t say that, ‘c _ourse_ I wanna marry you. But… I mean, I shouldn’t.”

Jemma sniffled, blinking away the tears still clinging to her lashes and asked hoarsely, “Why?”

“Don’ deserve it,” Fitz replied with a great, heaving sigh, his chest rising and falling with it. “Not after… I did bad stuff, okay?”

The tears were back in an instant, and Jemma’s shoulders shook as she sobbed out, “You _didn’t_ , you didn’t do _anything_! You’re just wonderful and special and you can’t see it! You’ve never been able to see it no matter what I say and I just love you so…so _much_!”

Fitz attempted to sit up, and after a few tries, he managed to pull himself at least up onto his elbows. He frowned deeply at the sight of her, gesturing her over with one hand. “Hey, stop, c’mere.”

Not needing to be asked twice, Jemma all-but threw herself at Fitz, knocking him right back onto the floor, but he took it good-naturedly, only grumbling a little. She buried her face in his shirt, gripping it in her fists, thinking wildly that if she held on tightly enough, he wouldn’t leave again, he’d have no choice but to stay with her.

“Jem,” Fitz murmured sadly, rubbing a clumsy hand over her back. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry too.”

“I c-can’t h-help it.” The words were muffled by the fabric of his shirt, now soaked with her tears, and her shoulders trembled violently under his hand.

A distinct sniffle issued from Fitz, and she felt him fumbling to kiss the top of her head. “Y’know I hate to see you cry. I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_ , ‘bout everything. I’m sorry for the things I did, sorry for hurting you, sorry for…for all of it.”

“But you don’t _have_ to be!” Jemma all-but wailed, because didn’t he understand that he didn’t _have_ to apologize? That the thing hurting her the most was the way he blamed himself, the way he tortured himself over the things he’d done in the Framework, things he’d had no control over or say in? “ _Please_ stop saying sorry! _Please_!”

“I _can’t_.” Fitz’s voice was rough with tears now, and a little peek up from his chest revealed shiny trails down the sides of his face. “I see it in…in _here_ ,” he gestured shakily to his head, “all the time and…and…there’s nothin’ I can do t’fix it.”

“Let me help you,” Jemma pleaded, bottom lip trembling as she gazed imploringly up at him. “Please Fitz, just let me _in_.”

Fitz shook his head quickly, his expression pained. “No, no then I’ll just hurt you more. You…you deserve…well, not me.”

“I don’t _want_ anyone else. I think you’re perfect in every way, even though you’re not perfect, even though you’re broken in _here_.” She tapped his heart where it lay beneath her cheek. “I’ve been trying to tell you this but I didn’t know how and I’m probably ruining it, but…but you’re a good man, Fitz, your heart is good and _you_ are good and…nothing that happened in there changes that. It didn’t change how I feel about you, no one feels different about you, we all love you and want to help you so…please, just let us try, okay? You, me, us, we’re better together, aren’t we?” She was crying again by the end of it, and she was pretty sure some of the words had run together or been choked by tears, but she hoped he heard enough to understand.

Fitz swallowed visibly, chin trembling as he soaked in what she’d said. Finally, he replied shakily, “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

It wasn’t a complete yes, he hadn’t agreed that he was good or that it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t said he was ready to let go of the guilt and let her and their friends in to help with it. But, it was the first step she’d been praying for, the first step to healing, and it was enough to get Jemma to smile through the tears.

“We okay?” she asked softly, just to check.

“Yeah,” Fitz confirmed, lifting a hand to awkwardly brush away her tears. “Y’know,” he commented with a quiet chuckle, “I don’t remember there bein’ this many tears when we used to do this.”

Jemma sighed, snuggling back into him, briefly catching his hand to press a kiss to the backs of his fingers, his skin wet from her tears. “We didn’t have as much to cry about back then, I guess.”

“No, we didn’t,” he agreed lowly. There was a beat of silence as they both likely thought back to how young and innocent they’d been, how they’d spent nights like this falling into each other and laughing for hours, singing off-key to their favorite songs and solving all the world’s problems with what they’d affectionately termed “drunk science” (most of which never actually held up once they were sober, but the math was always right, at least).

So much had happened since then, and though they were the same people as they had been then, they were also completely different ones, always going through one awful thing after another, always having a to find a way to deal with the things they couldn’t change.

Jemma wondered, if given the choice, would she perhaps want to go back and relive those days, leave behind the pain of now and be young and carefree once more?

But, even as drunk as she was, she didn’t even have to think about it twice before deciding it wouldn’t be worth it; yes, she’d been through terrible things, but at the end of the day, she had _Fitz_ , she had the love they shared, and it was something she wouldn’t give up without a fierce fight (and likely not even then).

“Damn it,” Fitz sighed suddenly, “we’re gonna fall asleep here aren’t we? Gonna be sore as hell in the morning.”

“I’ll move if you move,” Jemma muttered into his shirt, having absolutely no intention of moving an inch from where she lay half on top of Fitz. It was the first time he’d allowed her this close since before the whole Framework mess, and she wasn’t about to give him the chance to push her away again, not when she had him right where he needed to be _finally_.

Fitz tensed beneath her, as though he was attempting to get up, but it was only seconds later that his muscles relaxed. “Yeah, okay, sore it is.”

Silence descended between them once more then, but as Jemma’s stomach gave a threatening roll, something of great importance occurred to her and she had to know the answer to it right that moment.

“Promise me something?” she asked uncertainly, though urgency also colored her tone.

“Anythin’,” he answered instantly, seriously.

The word had Jemma smiling so big her cheeks hurt. “If I throw up, promise you’ll still love me?”

“Now, is this throwin’ up on _me_ , or just in general? ‘Cause I’m sorry to tell you it wouldn’t be the first time.” He squinted, one side of his mouth lifting as he thought hard. “For…either, actually.”

“I have _not_ thrown up on you!” Jemma cried, offended at the implication. She tried to push on his chest to force herself up into a sitting position, but missed the mark and ended up pressing down _hard_ on his stomach.

“The _hell_?!” Fitz let out a low groan of pain, quickly shoving her hand away and causing her to topple back onto his chest. “You tryin’ make _me_ puke now? Jesus Jemma.”

Ignoring his complaints, Jemma glared up at him and demanded, refusing to let it go, “When did I throw up on you?”

“Firs’ year at the Ac-Academy,” Fitz hiccupped out, “when dumb old Sally Webber tricked you into takin’ all those shots. Y’know, you shouldn’t take dares so personally.”

“I don’t tell you how to live your life,” Jemma muttered, rolling her eyes – but when that only served to make her dizzy and even more nauseous, she laid her head back down on his chest.

“’Course you do, all the time! ‘ _Fitz, eat more gross green stuff!’_ , ‘ _Fitz, I think sugar is the devil an’ so should you!’_ , ‘ _Fitz, only teenage boys sleep ‘til noon!_ ’, _‘Fitz, take off your clothes!_ ’” He paused there, expression a mask of deep concentration. “Wait, I take tha’ last one back.”

Jemma snorted indelicately. “Of course you would. And you _know_ I hate that stupid voice, I don’t _sound_ like that!” If she was standing, she’d be stomping her foot, but since she wasn’t, the best she could do was glare petulantly up at Fitz and smack his shoulder. Unfortunately, though, she couldn’t really feel her arms, so there wasn’t much force behind it.

“S’exactly how y’sound,” Fitz grumbled, eyes slipping closed tiredly.

Jemma scowled at him, but with his eyes closed, he missed it completely. She forgot all about that mere moments later, however, when something momentous occurred to her and she gasped loudly. “ _Fitz_!” she cried urgently, poking him several times in the cheek and nose until he opened his eyes.

“ _What_? What d’you want?!”

“If I threw up on you first year, why do you love me? You _hate_ the stuff that comes out of people.”

Fitz half-shrugged. “Well…’cause you’re…you. Nothin’ could change that, not even gross body stuff. And you said sorry after.”

“I did?” Jemma asked in surprise. That night had always been a blank (and even if it hadn’t been, she probably wouldn’t have been able to remember it just then anyway), and she’d never really asked Fitz what had happened, too afraid of finding out she’d done something horribly embarrassing. In the end, she’d figured nothing too bad could’ve happened, since Fitz had continued to be her friend afterward.

Fitz’s eyes fell closed again, a little smile tugging at his lips as he nodded slightly. “Yeah. Was pretty cute.”

“You think I’m _cute_!” Jemma squealed, giggling madly at the very idea. “Fitzy thinks I’m _cute_!”

“Nope, I take it back. Not cute.”

“You’re _lying_ ,” she said in a singsong tone, beaming from ear to ear. “You think I’m cute and smart and pretty and the best at _everything_.”

“Y’sure that’s not how _you_ feel ‘bout yourself?” he teased.

“ _No_ ,” Jemma answered firmly, tilting her head up to try and kiss him, but she only managed to catch his prickly chin. “Admit you love me.”

Fitz sighed deeply, though there was a huge smirk he couldn’t hide plastered right across his face. “Only ‘cause I have to.” He opened his eyes once more, gazing down at her warmly. “I love you, Jemma.”

Jemma’s answering smile was beatific, and her hand clumsily rose to press against his cheek. “Love you too, Fitz. You’re not gonna run away from me anymore, right? ‘Cause I missed you and I don’t like missing you.”

“Never again,” Fitz promised sincerely. “”Cause I don’t like missing you either.”

“Good.” Content with his promise, Jemma got comfortable in his arms, pressing her ear to his chest so that she could hear his heart beating. She let out a happy little sigh, because that sound was all she really needed in life, and now she finally had it back, had it all to herself, and she promised that this time, she’d do everything she possibly could to keep it safe and protected from anymore harm.  

After all, what other choice did she have but to protect the most precious gift she’d ever been given?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	9. Academy Era + Swamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a part of my second blog anniversary, for the prompt: "FS Academy Era + a trip to some place with weird climate/environment (swamp, savannah, etc) and bad accommodations, so they need to find a way to deal with the adversities (some bickering is always welcome)"

“A _swamp_.”

“Please tell me you’re not starting this again,” Jemma sighed, dropping her backpack tiredly to the ground. She’d had to hear him ranting about this the entire quinjet ride there, then during the short walk into the dank and humid swamp until they had arrived at the solid ground on one of the banks, marked with an ‘X’ on their map.

“First, I let you talk me into taking this bloody _class_ –”

“Technically you lost a bet.”

“– and then we spend _weeks_ being tested on the most _ridiculous_ things, things only _field_ agents would need to know, absolutely _nothing_ to do with science –”

“Well it _is_ called Field Survival 101, Fitz.”

“– and _then_ , for the icing on top of the bloody _cake_ we find out that for our final, they’re going to drop us in the middle of _nowhere_ –”

“We have a map, not to mention a radio if we run into trouble.”

“– and it’s a bloody _swamp_!” Seeming to finally be finished with his rant, Fitz threw his hands up, then rested them on his waist as he narrowed his eyes. “I just can’t believe they sent us out here to get eaten by _alligators_.” Apparently he wasn’t done yet, then.

Jemma gave a fierce roll of her eyes, tired of the constant complaints she’d been on the receiving end of since she’d brought up the idea of signing up for the class, and then once more after he’d lost their bet (she’d won fair and square – she had the higher final grade in chem to prove it). “They wouldn’t have sent us here if there were _alligators_ , Fitz.” Then she paused, making a face. “…probably.”

“Oh that’s so _comforting_ , thank you Simmons.” He was quiet for a moment, and Jemma prayed that maybe, he was _finally_ done complaining. No such luck. “You just _had_ to pick ‘swamp’,” he grumbled for the umpteenth time, “Could’ve been in a nice non-threatening _forest_. Could’ve even been a _rainforest_. There could’ve been _monkeys_. But _no_ , we end up in a goddamn _swamp_.”

“We picked out of a _hat_!” Jemma reminded him defensively, patience finally worn thin with her best friend. “I’m so sorry I can’t see the future!”

“Yeah well so am I, because if you could, you would’ve seen what a bloody _disaster_ taking this class would be and you’d never have forced me to take it in the first place!”

Jemma sniffed, tilting her chin up snidely. “Actually, I _still_ would’ve signed us up.”

“ _What_?” Fitz gaped at her, holding his hands out in disbelief. “What kind of masochist are you?!”

“The kind who thinks you _need_ this class to survive outside the lab! A couple more days without sunlight and you might fade away completely!”

Fitz gasped in complete disbelief, narrowing his eyes as he pointed angrily at her. “Oh, _you’re_ one to talk! When was the last time _your_ pasty skin saw anything more than fluorescent lighting?”

“Probably the last time yours did!” In the silence left in the wake of her words, Jemma sighed, wincing a bit as she admitted softly, “Alright, perhaps we _both_ needed this class.”

“When are we _ever_ gonna find ourselves lost in a _swamp_ in real life?” Fitz argued, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at the murky water and towering trees that almost seemed to surround them.

Jemma shrugged expressively, leaning down to rifle through her backpack. “I don’t know, but it _could_ happen. Somehow.”

“Oh, what, in the one-in-a-million chance that we’re the only survivors of a plane crash that leaves us stranded in the Everglades?” he offered sarcastically, absently swatting away a couple of mosquitoes.

“That’s the spirit!” Jemma hefted a small bundle from her backpack, beaming as she asked him, “Ready to set up camp?”

Fitz stared blankly at the folded up tent, then glanced at the swamp around them. “Oh come _on_ , now we’ve got to sleep in a _tent_?”

“What, did you think we’d be staying in the five-star hotel hiding behind that tree over there?” She gestured widely to the nearest thick-trunked tree, stretching up toward the darkening sky above them. “Why else would we have had a lesson on building a tent?”

“Well I spent that ‘lesson’ – if it can even be called that – working on more _important_ things for classes that actually _matter_.”

“Bet you wish you’d paid attention now.”

Fitz scowled, snatching the tent from her and beginning to unfold it. “Didn’t need to pay attention, it’s a _tent_. I build more complicated things before breakfast.”

Jemma shrugged, sitting down primly on her backpack. “Whatever you say. If you need help, all you need to do is ask.”

“I _won’t_ ,” Fitz assured her sharply. “I’m a bloody engineer, I should be able to set up a goddamn tent, thank you.”

With mild interest, Jemma watched him fumbling with the sheet and poles, swearing under his breath as it kept collapsing in on itself, sheet refusing to stay attached to the poles, the pole refusing to stay in the ground.

After another collapse, he seemed to have had enough. “I’m a bloody _engineer_ , I should be able to set up a goddamn _tent_!” Angrily, he threw the pole in his hand at the pile the tent had made on the ground. “I mean, come on, what possible real-life situation has us stuck in a swamp with a tent but no instructions?!”

“It’s _SHIELD_ ,” she pointed out, “You never really know what they’re going to send you out to do.” She was quiet a moment, but couldn’t seem to help herself from pointing out, “And you wouldn’t _need_ the instructions if you’d paid attention in class.”

Too livid to form a verbal response, Fitz simply threw a dark scowl in her direction. He spent another few minutes trying to put the tent together with jerky movements of barely-restrained frustration. When it sprung apart yet again, he swore loudly, looking about ready to throw the whole thing into the swamp and be done with it.

“Would you like my help now?” Jemma asked sweetly.

“You know what? Sure. Be my guest. It’ll be nice to see you be the one making a fool of yourself instead. Might even cheer me up a bit.” With that, Fitz plopped down onto his own backpack and crossed his arms over his chest.

Confidently, Jemma strode up to the tent, effortlessly hammering the pegs into the ground and sliding the poles into their proper places inside the sheet. Within ten minutes, it was up and more importantly, _staying_ up. Proudly, she turned to face Fitz and beamed. “And _that_ is what happens when you pay attention in class.”

If looks could kill, the tent would be ablaze with Fitz’s fiery glare at that moment. Through gritted teeth, he declared tightly, “I _hate_ the field. I’m never leaving the lab again, no matter how many bets we make. _Nothing_ will ever convince me to leave my nice safe lab again.”

Jemma shrugged widely in response. “I wouldn’t say never, Fitz. You might change your mind someday, might want to see the world.”

“ _Never_ ,” Fitz repeated firmly, shaking his head. Then, a moment later, he yelped, hurriedly swatting at his neck, where yet another mosquito had been attempting to make a snack out of him. “Christ, there’s gonna be no blood left in my whole body by the time we get out of here!”

“Oh! I’ve got bug spray!” she informed him, excited to be able to fix at least one problem as she began to dig through her pack. A moment later, she let out a triumphant, “A- _ha_!” Waving the bottle at him, she demanded, “Come here so I can spray you.”

“No _way_!” he dodged out of her reach, holding up his hands to ward her off. “That stuff _stinks_!”

Jemma groaned expressively, planting her hands on her hips as she glowered at him. “Oh, so you’d rather come out of here all bitten-up and itchy? Is that _really_ better than smelling like bug spray for a few hours? I doubt the _bites_ will come off with a good shower.”

Fitz narrowed his eyes, glaring at the ground as he muttered to himself, “You’re not my _mum_ , y’know. I’m a _grown man_. I can make my own decisions.” However, despite his grumblings, he stepped closer and closed his eyes tightly as he allowed her to cover all of his exposed skin with the mist.

“I might as _well_ be your mum the way you whine and give me no choice but to take care of you,” Jemma replied firmly.

He coughed pointedly, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the air of the foul-smelling spray. “Be quiet, Simmons.”

As she covered herself with the bug spray as well, Jemma smirked at him, knowing that she’d won this round. “Why don’t we sit down and have dinner?” she suggested as she replaced the bottle in her pack, knowing that food always seemed to get a grumpy Fitz to calm down for a little bit.

Sure enough, Fitz brightened up at the very mention. “Good idea, Simmons.” He happily flipped open the flap of his backpack, but within moments, his expression had darkened once more. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.” He searched through the pack a bit more frantically, but all he came back with were hands full of – “ _Rations_?! This stuff is _disgusting_ , no taste, no variety, _nothing_. They want me to bloody _starve_ out here!”

Jemma heaved a sigh, snatching one the bars from Fitz. “It’s twenty-four hours, Fitz; I think you’ll survive.”

“That’s debatable,” he muttered petulantly, peeling open one of the packages and pulling the most revolted expression possible as he took tiny bites out of it.

Out of nowhere, Jemma gasped, tossing her half-finished ration bar to the side as she jumped up.

“ _What_?! What is it?!” Hurriedly, Fitz glanced all around them, looking for alligators or something else terrifying that might be hiding in the swamp (he’d heard the rumors around campus about entire SHIELD teams that had gone missing in a swamp just like this one, after all).

“Fitz, _look_!” Jemma pointed urgently to something over his shoulder, her voice a harsh whisper.

He whirled around, squinting through the gathering darkness toward where he could see a rather large white form bobbing in the shallow end of the swampy water. Realizing that it was just a heron, he breathed a sigh of relief, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest as he bent over to rest his hands on his knees. “ _Damn it_ Simmons, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Keep your voice down, would you? You’re going to scare it away. Oh come _on_ , where did my camera go?” Frantically, Jemma searched through her bag for the wayward camera she’d been sure to pack that morning (which now seemed like several days ago).

“ _Camera_?” Fitz repeated incredulously. “You brought a _camera_? Why would you ever want to document this trip from hell?”

“Not the _trip_ , the wildlife!” Finally, her hand closed around the camera, and she spun back around. Lifting the viewfinder up to her eye, she was able to snap several pictures before the heron seemed to catch wind that it wasn’t alone, flying away.

“Did you get any?” Fitz asked, stepping up beside her to peer over her shoulder.

Jemma reviewed the pictures she’d managed to take, but her shoulders sagged when she realized that it had been too dark, and the only thing she could really see was a white blob hovering in inky blackness. “No,” she sighed.

Fitz squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. “Hey, there’s always tomorrow, right? We’ll have a few hours of morning light before they come and get us. I’m sure you’ll find some more photogenic swamp birds then.”

Spirits sufficiently raised in the way only Fitz could seem to raise them, Jemma grinned up at him and nodded. “You’re right, Fitz. We better get to sleep as soon as possible, then. I can’t wait!”

“Actually…um, I’m not sure I _want_ to sleep.” He glanced around unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “There are _things_ in swamps.”

“ _Things_?” she repeated archly. “What kinds of _things_?”

Fitz threw out his arms, shrugging expressively. “Like…like snakes and scorpions and spiders and –”

“ _Fitz_ ,” she cut in, “I doubt SHIELD would’ve sent its two brightest cadets if they thought it was at all possible we’d be hurt out here. We’ll be just _fine_.” When he still didn’t look completely sure, she added, “Oh, don’t worry Fitz, I’ll be sure to protect you from the scary _things_.”

“I don’t need _protecting_!” Fitz snatched up his backpack, stomping over to the tent and yanking back the unzipped fold of the entrance. “M’not some delicate _flower_.”

Rolling her eyes fondly and hiding her smile at how _easy_ he was, Jemma grabbed her own backpack and followed Fitz into the cramped little tent, zipping it up behind them.

It didn’t take them long to get settled, and though they were practically on top of each other in the tiny space, Jemma hoped that Fitz would fall asleep as swiftly as he always seemed to when they should’ve been studying – maybe he wouldn’t be as cranky when he woke up in the morning.

However, twenty minutes later, it was very clear that that was the _last_ thing that would be happening.

“ _Fitz_! Get your knee out of my back!”

“Only after you get the _hell_ off my arm!” There was a pause, then his cry of, “ _Ow_!” filled the little tent. “ _Jesus_ Simmons, your elbows are like bloody _daggers_!”

“Well if you had _moved_ like I asked you to, I wouldn’t have had to make you!”

“If _I_ had moved? I couldn’t even feel my arm anymore because _you_ wouldn’t move!”

“Maybe your arm wouldn’t have been under me if you weren’t such a bed hog! Seriously Fitz, I feel sorry for the misfortunate individual that ends up having to sleep next to _you_ for the rest of their life.”

“Yeah, well, the same goes for whoever’s sleeping next to you. Honestly Simmons, you’re a complete _terror_.”

“Well it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”

“What are you, _five_?”

“Oh will you _shut up_ , Fitz? I’d like to get some sleep this century, if at all possible.”

Silence reigned for a long moment, then he whispered, “’Night Simmons.”

She sighed softly, then murmured in return, “Good night, Fitz.”

The quiet that descended between them lasted for a bit longer this time, but it was Fitz who broke it again eventually, just as Jemma felt sleep beginning to pull her under.

“Simmons?”

“Yeah?”

“If I had to be stuck in a swamp with anyone…well, I’m glad it’s with you.”

She didn’t answer at first, but when she did, it was to ask teasingly, “Because I can put up a tent?” Biting back a giggle at the sound of his irritated groan, she was quick to add before he could begin another rant about tents, “I’m glad I’m stuck with you too, Fitz.”

Through the dark, she felt his hand find hers, his skin clammy in the humidity. His fingers squeezed her hand once, quickly, before releasing it. She felt him shifting around, turning away from her, and a fond smile tugged at her lips. Sure, he might’ve spent the whole day complaining her ear off, but truthfully, Jemma wouldn’t have it any other way; she would rather be stuck in a tent in the middle of a swamp with Fitz, than anywhere else in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	10. FS + Apartments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a part of my second blog anniversary, prompted by @elivent on tumblr: "Hi! Can I ask you to write something canon compliant about FS moving into their double bunk or their new apartment?"

The first time they move in together, they’re nineteen, fresh out of the Academy and in a hurry to become SHIELD’s top scientists. There’s about a week between the time they graduate and when they’re set to start at Sci-Ops, so the hunt for a decent flat and the actual moving in are done within just a few days.

It’s not much, a space just big enough for the two of them, and most importantly, it’s a fifteen minute walk from the Sci-Ops facility (the key deciding factor, really). They don’t have much between the two of them, and it isn’t long before they’re unpacked and suddenly this is what they call _home_.

Things aren’t always easy – though they’ve been attached at the hip for the past two and a half years, they’ve never _lived_ together and there’s an adjustment period. There’s arguments over who gets to shower first or who’s turn it is make dinner that night, Jemma is eternally frustrated by the dirty laundry Fitz seems to leave _everywhere_ , and Fitz can’t stand the fact that there only ever seems to be ridiculously healthy food in the kitchen.

But, at the end of the day, they’re still together, and after watching friends and partners at the Academy assigned to separate SHIELD facilities after graduation, they understand how lucky they truly are.

And by the time they leave their cozy little flat behind for even smaller bunks on the Bus and a first class ticket to adventure, Jemma has trained Fitz to use a hamper for his laundry (well…most of the time) and Fitz has convinced Jemma to be a bit more lenient on the sugar (sometimes). Of course, the most obvious (to everyone else, that is) effect of spending almost every single second of the past eight years together, is the way that they seem to have fused together without their notice, the lines between Fitz and Simmons blurring until only Fitzsimmons is left and nothing can seem separate them.

Until something does. Again, and again, and again.

-

It’s been three years since they moved out of their flat and set out to see the world. They’ve been forced apart by time and space, by circumstance and pain. But, despite it all, they’ve grown back together, two separately defined people now who have fought to find each other, to hold onto each other through it all.

But, things are different now. They’ve truly _found_ each other, in a way they’d managed to overlook for over a decade, and they dare the cosmos to try and come between them _now_.

So set in their idea of no longer wasting time, it isn’t long after the world nearly ends and they lose a friend (and in losing that friend, they lose another) that they decide to share a bunk in the Playground.

With the somber mood on base these days, the move is done quietly and with little fanfare. Just a day of the few boxes worth of their things being moved into the larger bunk Coulson had offered them, and it’s done. It’s anticlimactic after all the drama of beginning their relationship, but with Daisy not there to make jokes about their new “love nest”, it’s grimly fitting.

Even after all those years of sharing a flat, there’s still more adjusting that needs to be done, something they realize quite quickly. Figuring out how to share a closet, when to set their alarm, even who sleeps on which side of the bed are all topics of discussion in the first few days.

But, six months later, it’s normal and natural and they get to wake up to their best friend and the love of their life every morning. No, things haven’t been perfect, SHIELD has been going through changes and Daisy’s still missing and they never seem to have time to spend together, but they’re still clinging to each other fiercely, still fighting not to let anything tear them apart once more.

Until something does. _Again_.

-

It’s been a little over a month since the disaster that was the Framework, since they’d nearly been torn apart for good at the hands of a manipulative machine that wanted to be human. The emotional fallout had been the worst part of it all, and it still lingers even now.

But, they’re both ready to move on with their lives and have a fresh start. And this time, they do it _right_.

“What do you think?” Jemma asks, squinting as she holds the two paint samples up to one of the walls in their new kitchen. “Revere Pewter or Agreeable Gray?”

 “Uh…” Nervously, Fitz glances between the two samples, trying to find a difference that doesn’t seem to be there. “Are you…um…sure they aren’t the same?”

“ _What_?!” Jemma spins around to face Fitz, her expression a mask of affronted shock. “How could you _possibly_ …? Clearly, Agreeable Gray is warmer than Revere Pewter!” She waves the samples in front of him, as though that’ll somehow make it easier to see.

“Fine, that one then.” He’s not about to start arguing with her about _paint colors_ of all things, not when he’s resolved to make the memories of moving into their new flat all _good_ ones.

Jemma narrows her eyes, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you just saying that?”

“’Course not! It’s obviously a superior color and not at all the same as the other one.”

He doesn’t think he sold it, because Jemma lets out a little huff. “You’re just humoring me.” But there’s a smile tugging at her lips, so Fitz thinks he’s still safe.

“Maybe a bit,” he admits with a chuckle.

Jemma smiles wryly and glances down at the samples still in her hands. “I suppose they are quite similar.” There’s a pause, then she adds quickly, “But I still think Agreeable Gray is better.”

“Me too,” Fitz assures her warmly, grasping her wrist and tugging her closer until he can press a kiss to her forehead.

The following day is spent covering the floors in drop cloths and taping around windows and filling trays with paint. They start bright and early, at Jemma’s insistence, but by late afternoon, they’re lying in the middle of the floor in their half-painted bedroom, exhausted and covered in a rainbow of paint splatters.

“I think it looks perfect just like this,” Fitz comments, groaning as he drops his aching arms to rest above his head.

“ _Hush_ ,” Jemma grumbles, inching closer to him until she can drop her cheek to rest on his stomach. “We just need to take a break, that’s all.”

Fitz scoffs, bringing one of his hands down to absently stroke his fingertips over the exposed skin of her legs where they lay beside his head. “Oh, you’re welcome to get right back to it. I think I’ll take a nap instead.”

“ _Fiiitz_!” But even though she’s pretending to be upset, when he lifts his head to slide his free arm beneath it, he catches a glimpse of her closed eyes and relaxed smile.

“Rest for a moment, would you? You’re going to burn yourself out, Jem.” He gives her knee a little squeeze, chuckling a bit to himself as his thumb glides over splotches of gray and yellow and blue staining her skin.

She sighs quietly, admitting, “I just want this to be perfect.”

He doesn’t even have to think it over before he tells her gently, “It already is.”

Jemma cracks open one eye, her smile growing as she asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms sincerely.

The next time they speak, the sun is setting and their bodies are sore from falling asleep on the floor, but they dive right back into painting, and Fitz doesn’t argue with Jemma’s firm resolve to have them continue late into the night until they’re finished. He knows how hard she’s trying, and he’d give her the world if he could – and since he can’t, he’ll have to settle for the perfect home for the two of them.

It’s another week before they can manage a couple more days off to move their things from the Playground to their newly painted flat (and really they only manage it thanks to Coulson’s kindness and understanding) and get settled. Jemma doesn’t want to rush this time – in their first flat, there had never been time for painting, let alone decorating, and things had just been thrown together where they seemed to fit – and much the same had gone on when they’d begun sharing the tiny bunk on base. Now, she makes sure everything has its place, and Fitz is more than happy to move the couch eight times until she’s content with its placement (though his back is another story completely).

On their last day off from work, there’s only the little things left, and as Jemma arranges the frames on their mantel and the arrangement of the books on their bookshelves, Fitz finishes up in the bedroom.

“Finished!” she cries from the living room, the proud grin evident in her tone.

“Wanna come give me a hand, then?” Fitz calls back.

“Have you spent this whole time mucking about, waiting for me to finish for you?” she demands, her voice coming closer and closer as she speaks. “Because I _swear_ , Fitz…”

But she never finishes the sentence, as the words seem to melt off of her tongue when she appears in the doorway of their bedroom and her wide eyes land on Fitz, down on one knee in the middle of the room and holding out a little black box displaying a diamond ring.

“You told me you’d wait until I was ready,” he begins, inhaling a shuddery breath, and there are already tears shining in Jemma’s eyes as one of her hands rises to cover her beaming smile. “And you’ve been nothing but supportive, even when I was at my lowest, even when I was convinced I didn’t deserve you. But, I’ve realized something these past weeks, as you’ve been working so hard to make this place our home: no matter where we’ve lived, whether it was our crappy flat near Sci-Ops, the Bus, the Playground, or here, they’ve all been _home_ to me because _you_ were there. I don’t care where we are, whether we’re at the bottom of the ocean or in Perthshire someday, I know I’ll be home if you’re there beside me.” Sniffling a bit from the tears threatening to choke him, Fitz lets out a watery laugh and asks, “So, even though you’ve already given me your answer, I still have to ask; Jemma Anne Simmons, will you marry me?”

She lets out a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, nodding frantically as she rushes forward, dropping to her knees in front of him and throwing her arms around him. “ _Yes_ ,” she whispers against his shoulder, shaking in his embrace with barely-contained sobs and delighted giggles, “ _yes, yes, yes_.”

Fitz holds her to him tightly, burying his face-splitting grin in the space between her neck and shoulder. He can’t believe that this wonderful woman, that the brilliant sixteen-year-old girl who had befriended him, the desperately curious best friend that had dragged him into the field, the broken and so, _so_ compassionate woman that he loved so fiercely and unendingly who somehow happened to love him in return is going to be his wife – even after everything that has threatened to rip them apart and has almost succeeded. He can’t believe that they’re _here_ , finally, that they’re alive and looking toward a bright future that hadn’t seemed possible so many times over the years.

But, against all the odds, they’ve always found their way back to each other, across universes and through rewritten lives, they’ve saved other and come together to form a bond that can’t be broken. They’ll continue to fight to stay together, where they belong, their home, and they refuse to let anything tear them apart this time.

And nothing will. Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	11. Post Framework + Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of Fitz/AIDA noncon/sexual assualt in the Framework
> 
> Written pre-4x21 for the prompt: "Could you write something about Jemma helping Fitz deal with and come to terms with the sexual assault he was subjected to in the framework? Them finding a way to be intimate again both physically and emotionally?"

After AIDA has been defeated for good, after the mess left in the wake of their evil LMDs has been sorted, after the Framework has finally been destroyed, there’s still so much left to do – but it cannot be fixed so easily, each and every one of them with more emotional scars to add to the years’ worth they already hold. Though they all throw themselves into rebuilding the Playground and getting SHIELD back up and running, things are different; there’s an unspoken grief hanging in the air, threatening to suffocate them all.

With the base half-destroyed (and trying so desperately to find something close to normal), Jemma and Fitz make the split-second decision to move out of the Playground and into the empty apartment waiting for them. Though neither says it aloud, they both understand that this won’t change the pain they’ve been put through, won’t make it any easier to cross the chasm it’s put between them.

Still, they try.

They don’t have much, and the apartment remains sparsely decorated, just a bed and a couple suitcases of their clothes left lying open on the floor of the bedroom on their first night in the new place.

Jemma’s exhausted, as she has been for days, weeks. She can’t remember the last time she’s gotten a good night’s sleep – surely not since the Framework, since Fitz had started sleeping as far as physically possible from her in their bed (though when she wakes in the morning, it’s to find that they’ve gravitated toward each other in sleep, limbs entangling and hearts entwined, and it destroys her every time she has to pull herself away before he wakes).  But, she hopes that perhaps a change of scenery, falling asleep somewhere that isn’t the burnt-down Playground, might make sleep come easier.

She hopes, but she doesn’t believe it for an instant.

They’re getting ready for bed, dancing awkwardly around each other in this new and strange environment, getting used to the abrupt change while also still floundering on how to be together and yet still apart. She’s in the process of changing, her unbuttoned shirt just fluttering from her fingers back into her suitcase when she feels the searing touch of his hands on her bare waist.

Before she can even gasp, Fitz has turned her around to face him and his hungry mouth has claimed hers with a heat that threatens to consume her. It’s all Jemma can do to hang onto him, hands gripping his shoulders as he pulls her tight to him until there’s no space left between them (except for that chasm that physical intimacy wouldn’t be able to cross, of course).

Though the feeling of having Fitz in her arms once more is intoxicating, something doesn’t feel right – the desperation in his kiss, the slightly bruising grip of his fingers on her waist, it’s worrying and very much not _Fitz_.

Breaking away from the passionate kiss, Jemma tries to meet his eyes as she questions softly, breathlessly, “Fitz?”

He refuses to meet her searching gaze, his eyes still tightly closed as he admits roughly, “I just…I just want to feel real again.”

Sniffing back the immediate tears those words have building up inside of her, Jemma gently pries his fingers from her waist, cradling his hands between hers and bringing them to her lips to plant loving kisses against his skin. “Fitz,” she murmurs, “I won’t let you force yourself to do anything you’re not ready for. I refuse to take advantage of your vulnerability – you’ve had far enough of that to last a lifetime. And…and you know I’d never…”

“I know,” he tells her quietly, his chin wobbling as a few tears roll down his cheeks. “I know. Of course I know, I just…”

But he can’t seem to finish the sentence, and Jemma squeezes his hands between hers, thumbs stroking his skin lovingly. “I understand,” she whispers, because she truly does, can see it in the defeated hunch of his shoulders and can feel it the trembling of his hands within hers, “but you need time to heal, and I’ll still be here when you’re ready – I’ll _always_ be here, even if you’re never ready again.” He looks unconvinced, his brow furrowing, and it’s clear he’s about to protest, so she insists quietly, “Fitz, I love you. I _love_ you, and I’m in this forever, no matter what. You have my heart, my life, everything. My future is tied to yours. So, if you want to leave SHIELD and go live in the mountains somewhere, I’m there. If you want to quit engineering to pursue a career training monkeys instead, I’m there. As long as we’re together, I’m happy.”

He’s quiet a moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is strained with tears and pain he shouldn’t have to bear. “I don’t deserve it.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jemma argues fiercely, “you _do_. Because what happened in the Framework? What that _thing_ did to you, what it forced you to do, you had no _choice_. It was taken from you, and you may not see that now, but it’s the truth, and I’ll say it again and again until you believe it.” She lifts their joined hands to drop another kiss on his skin. “And when you do, I’ll be there to help you through it.”

-

“I see it every time I close my eyes.”

Fitz’s voice rings out in the darkness of their bedroom a few weeks later, even though the words themselves are relatively quiet. To Jemma, though, they might as well have been shouted. She squeezes her eyes shut to force back the tears that seem ever-present these days, searching the blankets until she finds his hand and can grip it tightly.

“I remember…wanting to be there, in the moment, but…but that wasn’t me. That was someone else’s life, an entirely different Leopold Fitz that _she_ created to suit her needs and…and I feel… _dirty_ , because I may have been there but I didn’t choose to be, y’know? _He_ did, and she did, but I didn’t. The things I did as him, the torturing and…and… _murdering_ ,” he pauses to suck in a sharp breath, “they’re all awful and they’ll stay with me…well, forever, but the things they _did_ …” A shudder runs through him, all the way to his fingers, where they are loosely laced through hers. “When I see it in my head, it’s like a horror movie I can’t turn off, I have to watch it happen over and over and I can’t do anything to change it and…”

She doesn’t want to speak, for fear of inhibiting the progress he’s making, for fear of him closing himself off once more, but _god_ does she want to wrap him up in her arms and tell him it’s okay and soothe him until he’s whole again (but that’s only a dream, isn’t it? One hug can’t solve this, it’s bigger than that, bigger than a broken heart or overwhelming guilt). Instead, she simply tightens her fingers around his hand, and feels his squeeze in response.

“The worst part, I think, is that…that a part of my brain thinks I _loved_ her, because _he_ did, because she _made_ me, and…and that’s sick, isn’t it? That’s not love. I mean, I didn’t even have a _choice_ , did I? But there’s this part of my brain telling me that I did all those things because I loved her and…” He breathes out a harsh, shuddery breath. “And I still feel it, tickling at the back of my mind every second of every day, and I just want it to…to _go away_ , because then maybe I could start to forget, to move _on_ with…with you, because you deserve –”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, even though she’d told herself she wouldn’t, because she can’t let him continue down that path. “Don’t think about what I deserve, because this is about _you_. You were subjected to things you never asked for, experienced a life you didn’t choose. I won’t allow you to make this about me when the focus needs to be on you and what you need.”

“But it matters to me,” he insisted, “your feelings are more important to me than anything. I know you’ve suffered too –”

But, once more, Jemma won’t let him continue. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through. Fitz, all I want is to help you, in whatever way you need me to. _That_ is what is most important to me.”

He doesn’t speak for a long moment, and she wonders if he even knows what he needs (if he doesn’t, then she will help him with that too, she’ll lay there beside him holding his hand within hers until they’ve figured out what he needs from her and she can start giving it to him straight away). Finally, he answers, “I think…I think you being here, with me, still, after everything is more than I could ever ask for. You just being here, being able to look at you and remember that _that_ life was fake and us, that _we’re_ real…that’s what I need.”

“Then you have it,” she replies immediately, “Always.”

-

It’s been a couple of weeks since his midnight confession, and though things aren’t fixed by any means, Jemma can tell that Fitz is beginning to heal, that opening himself up to the truth had been the first step he needed to take. There’s still a distance between them, he’s still cautious and scared, but every now and then he’ll reach for her hand or kiss her forehead, and pride swells inside of her for the progress he’s made, how hard he’s fought to tend to the wounds in his heart.

Still, she’s giving him space, refusing to push him any further than he’s ready for, so when she enters the bathroom in their apartment to find it already occupied by Fitz, the steam from his shower hanging thick in the tiny room, she pauses in the doorway.

“Oh,” she says aloud, taking an automatic step back. “I’m sorry Fitz, I hadn’t realized you were in here. I’ll just…”

“Jemma…” he calls hoarsely, and she pauses, hand on the doorknob. “Stay?” She swallows thickly, gripping the doorknob a bit more tightly, needing to cling to something as she’s overcome with emotion. “I…I want you with me. If…I mean, is that okay?”

Jemma’s breathy laugh is swallowed up by the harsh sound of the shower spray hitting tile. “I will. I will, Fitz. It’s okay.” The whisper of clothing being removed and hitting the floor is followed shortly by the metallic clink of hooks moving along the shower curtain rod as Jemma steps in behind Fitz.

As water rains down on them, their gazes lock briefly, pain and heartache and fear laid bare between them, and then, as though they are magnets, they fall into each other. Her arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, but it is nothing compared to the way he’s clinging to her, as though she’s his last tenuous grip on reality, to this life and who he truly is, the reminder that he is more than what’s happened to him.

He buries his face between her neck and shoulder, and the warmth of his tears hitting her skin is a direct contrast to the rapidly cooling water beating against her back. Clenching her eyes shut to try and hold back her own tears, Jemma turns her head to blindly press kisses wherever she can reach, catching his neck and shoulder.

As his body shakes with sobs he’s likely needed to release for some time now, Jemma holds him – holds him together to keep him from breaking apart any further, and perhaps, maybe, if she holds him tightly enough she’ll be able to fuse the broken pieces of his heart back together. And maybe not, but she has to _try_ , because for him, she’ll do anything.

-

It’s a few nights later that, after the lights have gone out and they’re preparing to go to sleep, Fitz reaches across the mattress for her, his hand finding the curve of her waist and his lips capturing hers with a practiced ease that still remains even after how much time has passed.

She’s so caught off-guard that she automatically returns the kiss for a long moment, leaning into him and blindly finding his shoulder to grip, needing something to hold onto as desire washes over her. But, her senses quickly return to her, and she’s afraid that this is a repeat of their first night in the apartment, that he’s searching for solace in her while something awful tears at his heart. “Fitz?” she asks, just as she had that night, the words spoken lightly against his lips.

However, tonight, his response is different. “I’m ready,” he tells her confidently, warmly, “I’m ready to move on with my life, to make new memories with you until there’s no space left for the memories I wish I didn’t have. I love you so _much_ for waiting, for being here, for just being…incredible, like always. But believe me when I say I’m _ready_.”

Jemma’s answering smile is blindingly bright, and she’s sure he must be able to see it even through the dark. “I believe you,” she assures him, a laugh lingering in the words. She slides her hand over his shoulder, up along his neck until she can cup the back of his head and gently urge him closer. “And I love you too,” she makes sure to add, because she never wants him to forget it, never again.

“I know,” he whispers, and she can feel his smile against hers as words become no longer necessary and they allow their bodies to speak for them.

And it’s sometime later that Jemma finds herself thinking about the fact that she hadn’t quite realized how starved for contact with him she’s been, how much she’d missed the feel of his skin against hers and the blissful moments where they become a part of each other and the line where she ends and he begins blurs until it no longer exists.

But now that she has it back, now that she can freely curl up on his bare chest and sling a leg over his waist, she doesn’t waste a second of it, fingers tracing every available inch of skin she can reach.

“You gonna make fun of me if I cry after sex?” Fitz asks, his tone teasing but his voice tellingly watery.

Jemma sniffs back the tears of her own that she feels burning at the backs of her eyes, laughing lightly as she replies, “Not if you won’t make fun of me for much the same.”

Fitz chuckles, tightening his arm around her shoulders and leaning forward to kiss the top of her head. “What a pair we make,” he jokes, idly stroking his fingertips up and down the length of her arm (and the feel of his touch after so long without it causes a shiver to race down her spine, even at this small touch).

Jemma presses her cheek to his chest, unable to stop grinning even as tears dribble down the side of her face to land on his skin. “I’ve missed you,” she admits softly.

“God Jem, you have no idea how much… Having you with me has helped me more than I can express, but feeling as though you were still so far away…it’s been torture. I know I needed time and distance and I can’t thank you enough for giving it to me, you’ve been extraordinary, but…I’ve just missed you so much. Not just _this_ ,” he nods at their current position, tangled up in each other with clothes spread on the floor around them, “but…but just allowing myself to be near you, to hold you and kiss you and…” He trails off, and even though she can’t see his face, she gets the feeling that he’s embarrassed, that he believes he’s opened himself up too much too fast.

But, Jemma’s always glad for a glimpse inside her best friend’s brilliant brain, and hadn’t that been a piece of the puzzle they’ve been trying to solve together the past few months? Hadn’t they been working on being more open and honest in order to allow them to heal together? With that in mind, she tells him earnestly, “Me too, Fitz. I’ve been patient because you needed me to be and I understand completely that you had to work through everything first, but I can’t tell you how wonderful it’s felt to be close to you again.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs in agreement. “I know I can’t say what the future holds, and this has taught me that more than anything, but…but even if we can’t keep it, let’s just…promise that we’ll do whatever we can to make sure nothing comes between us again, okay? Awful things always seem to be happening to us, and yeah, they’re always going to be there afterward and never truly be gone, but we’ve gotten through it because in the end, we still had each other.”

“And we always will,” Jemma says firmly, just in case there is a single doubt left in his mind that she won’t always be right there by his side to love and support him. “I promise you that will never change, and I will continue to do whatever I have to to make sure of that.”

“Yeah, good, so will I,” Fitz agrees, and Jemma can’t help but laugh, lifting her head to find his lips with hers, the lingering salt of their tears mixing as they kiss languidly.

No, they can’t change what’s happened in the past, and Fitz will always have the memory of the things he hadn’t chosen to experience while in the Framework, but what they _can_ choose is to move on together, to use this experience to remind them of one thing: so many things may have changed over the years, but what hasn’t is that they’re stronger when they’re together, and that is something that not even AIDA’s twisted manipulation and emotional torture can ever take from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	12. Science Pick-Up Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a part of my second blog anniversary celebration, for the prompt: "FitzSimmons and some science pick up lines, like 'are you a carbon sample? because I want to date you', 'you're so hot you denature my proteins' or 'I wish I were your derivate, so I could tangent to your curves'".

As per their usual routine, Jemma and Fitz were unwinding a bit before bed, propped up against the headboard as she paged through a book and he scrolled through his tablet. She was just finishing up her final chapter for the night when Fitz began to chuckle beside her.

Scanning the last few sentences, Jemma closed her book and set it to the side, curiously glancing toward Fitz. “What’s so funny?” she asked, an automatic smile beginning to tug at her lips in response to his grin.

He glanced up at her question, still laughing as he turned the tablet to face her. “Oh, Daisy just sent me the link to this website with a bunch of cheesy science pick up lines.”

Jemma arched an eyebrow, doing a quick read of the top few listed and immediately scoffing. “Oh honestly, I hope no one actually believes those would work on a sane human woman.”

Fitz pulled the tablet back, locking it and resting it on his lap. “So you’re telling me that if I used these on you, you’d be completely unaffected?”

“Well of _course_. They’re utterly ridiculous, Fitz.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, piquing Jemma’s interest, but all he said was, “Huh,” before placing his tablet on his bedside table and reaching out to turn off the lamp.

Jemma very much wanted to ask what “huh” was supposed to mean, but in the end she decided that the whole thing was silly and it didn’t really matter, so she just turned out her own lamp and curled up with Fitz to go to sleep.

Little did she know that by tomorrow, she would have a very good idea of what was going through Fitz’s head just then, nor did she have the faintest clue what she was awaiting her.

-

Bent over her microscope as she was, Jemma didn’t notice she was no longer alone at her desk at first, but when she felt the warmth that always exuded off of him at her back, it brought a little smile to her lips. Straightening up to get a bit closer to him, Jemma briefly allowed her eyes to slip closed as she greeted lowly, “Hello Fitz.”

“Mmm…hey,” he hummed, leaning forward until she could feel his breath on her neck, the light kiss he dropped on her ear causing her smile to grow. “Are you a carbon sample?” he asked suddenly, his voice just barely loud enough to be heard as he brushed his lips along the shell of her ear, the fingers of his one of his hands curling loosely around her hip. “Because I want to date you.”

_Wait… **what**?_

“Ugh _Fitz_!” Figuring pretty quickly that this had to do with their conversation the previous night, Jemma abruptly broke away from him and whirled around to glare up at him. “ _Seriously_? I don’t… I mean, honestly, that doesn’t even make sense! We’re _engaged_!” She pointedly held up her left hand, displaying the shiny diamond ring that fit perfectly onto her third finger.

There was an annoyingly smug smirk on his face (which made absolutely no sense given that he hadn’t proved anything, and not to mention the fact that it absolutely ticked Jemma off), and he simply shrugged, accepting the loss easily. _Too easily_.

As he drifted back over to his own desk, Jemma eyed him suspiciously. This wasn’t the end, was it?

 _Well, then two could play at that game_.

-

“I’m so glad you thought of this,” Jemma told Fitz, unable to stop smiling even as she lifted her glass to take a sip of champagne.

The flickering candlelight between them seemed to make Fitz’s eyes glow, and his smile didn’t look as if about to disappear anytime soon either. “Me too. Can’t even remember the last time we went out.”

Jemma scoffed, rolling her eyes fondly as she teased, “Oh, probably right about the time of our first official date. But we moved into our new bunk the following week, so you likely assumed you didn’t need to wine and dine me anymore.”

“Now that is _not_ true!” Fitz argued defensively. “I’ve _wanted_ to take you out, but everything’s been so hectic –”

“Fitz,” Jemma cut in, laying her left hand over his right comfortingly, “ _shhh_ , I was just teasing. Trust me, I know how busy our lives have been for the past, oh…four years or so?”

Fitz smiled a bit embarrassedly at his little outburst, nodding in understanding. He spent the next couple of minutes just gazing down at their hands as he idly played with her fingers, but then Jemma bit her lip as she watched him lift her hand to his mouth (making sure to drop a little kiss on her ring). She felt his lips caressing the smooth skin of the back of her hand as he spoke, their gazes locked, “Have you lost an electron?” He peppered tiny kisses along the backs of her fingers before finishing, “Because you’re positively attractive.”

With a groan of pure disbelief, Jemma yanked her hand back and threw a glare across the table at him. “ _Now_? You have to do this _now_?”

Fitz shrugged unashamedly, leaning back in his chair and looking unfairly attractive in the mood lighting of the restaurant. “Why not now?” he countered playfully.

She didn’t bother with a verbal response, but she figured he’d get it soon enough – roughly about the time they returned to their flat and he became aware of just how drastically her plans for the evening had changed thanks to his little _game_.

-

It had been a hell of a day, most of the team out in the field looking into the latest strange and potentially dangerous phenomenon, and therefore the lab had been abuzz with analyzing the samples being periodically sent in as soon as possible. By the time Coulson reported that they were headed back to base, Jemma was exhausted and in desperate need of a break.

She hadn’t seen Fitz for some time, and figuring that he’d had the same idea as her, she headed for the commissary to share a nice cup of tea with him.

However, she hadn’t gotten very far when the door to one of the storage closets in the hall burst open, and before she could form a coherent thought, she was being pulled inside and the door was shut tightly behind her.

As a SHIELD agent, her first response was to figure out as quickly as possible the best way to get this person to let go of her long enough for her to flee – but then, her senses were hit with the familiar smell of Fitz’s aftershave (mixed with solder, as per usual) and the feel of his calloused fingers loosely wrapped around the sensitive skin of her wrist.

Breathing an audible sigh of relief, Jemma began to scold him, “ _Fitz_ , you nearly gave me a –” But, the words ended on a surprised moan when he captured her lips with his.

 _Well then_. It wasn’t the tea she’d been looking for – it was much _better_. After all, what better remedy was there than Fitz?

With that in mind, Jemma looped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss eagerly and curling her fingers around the back of his neck to hold him there (though he didn’t exactly seem inclined to leave anytime soon).

Eventually, he tore his lips from hers and her head dropped back against the door as they trailed kisses across her cheek, over the curve of her jaw and below her ear, down onto her neck, gaining breathless little gasps from her every so often.

“You’re so hot,” he groaned into the delicate skin of her throat, and Jemma gripped the back of his neck more tightly, moaning in wordless agreement as his mouth drifted down so he could nip at her collarbone, “you denature my proteins.”

Still breathing hard, Jemma’s eyes flew open in confusion, then narrowed into a glare directed at his ear (the only part of him she could really see at the moment). Groaning in annoyance now, she planted her hands on his shoulders and gave him a firm push. Startled, he lifted his head, their gazes meeting in the weak light filtering in through the crack under the door.

“Oh well,” he said after a moment, that stupidly attractive little smirk tugging at his lips as he shrugged. With one last peck dropped on her lips, he pushed open the door behind her and just _walked away_ , leaving Jemma positively fuming.

That infuriating man had better count his lucky stars that she loved him so completely. _Honestly_.

-

Jemma woke to the fluttery feeling of fingertips trailing over the bare skin of her arm, and her lips curled up into a dreamy smile. She relaxed further back into Fitz’s embrace, sighing contentedly and resolving to stay in bed just a few minutes longer – especially when his lips brushing over the back of her naked shoulder caused her to give a little shudder.

“I wish I were your derivate,” he murmured against her skin, voice low and rough from sleep, accent deep in the way that always had her stomach twisting up in pleasant knots, “so I could tangent to your curves.” And as he spoke the words, he dragged his palm agonizingly slowly along the length of her body, tracing the curve of her hip and tickling lightly along her thigh.

Internally raging about how entirely _dirty_ her best friend-slash-fiancé played, Jemma was quick to bury her face in her pillow in order to muffle the moan she couldn’t quite suppress. Though her body was screaming at her to just give up, roll over, and kiss him until he forgot his own _name_ let alone how to form ridiculous pick up lines, Jemma fought the desperate urge. She would _not_ be the one to give in – she would beat Fitz at his dumb little game, and prove to him once and for all that she wasn’t one to be trifled with.

And with that in mind, Jemma then gathered up every ounce of willpower in her body and hastily fumbled her way out of the blankets, hurrying for the bathroom as soon as her feet hit the floor.

As soon as the door had closed behind her, she leaned back against it and released a heavy sigh, closing her eyes and dropping her head back.

Honestly, she deserved a bloody _trophy_ for that display of self control alone.

-

Just finishing with the dishes from their late dinner, Jemma was still at the counter when she felt Fitz’s presence hovering behind her. Sure enough, a moment later, his arms wrapped low around her waist and he tugged her gently back to rest against his chest. As her eyes fell closed, she enfolded his hands within hers, lacing their fingers together.

Quiet moments like these were her favorites, where they could just enjoy being _together_ without having to think about the way the world always seemed to be resting on their shoulders or all of the pain and tears they’d had to get through to be there. It was moments like these when she felt so incredibly lucky to have fallen in love with her best friend in the world.

She released a happy little sigh, lounging back in Fitz’s embrace, idly stroking her thumbs along the length of his. He bent his head forward to kiss her shoulder, and against it he murmured, “My favorite element is Uranium,” she rolled her eyes, waiting for whatever was coming next (and a bit disappointed that she’d have to break their embrace so soon in order to show that she’d yet to be swayed), “because I love U.”

 _Oh._ Against her will, she felt her heart melting, warmth flooding her from head to toe. _Oh that just wasn’t fair_. She turned around in his loose grip, finding an adorable little grin on his face, though his expression was carefully cautious, obviously expecting her to pull away at any moment.

But, _damn him_ , it had finally worked, he’d finally found the one to break her and prove her wrong. With a little sigh of defeat, Jemma cupped his face in her hands, guiding him down those few inches that would allow her to find his lips with hers. “ _I hate you_ ,” she mumbled against his mouth, just to remind him how very much she disliked being wrong (though they both knew that she didn’t mean it, not one single bit).

Of course, it was necessary for her to keep kissing him until that annoying smirk was gone, just to prove _her_ point.

(And if she continued kissing him after that…well, she was only human.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	13. FS + Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a part of my second blog anniversary celebration, for the prompt: "fitzsimmons + jealousy".

Jemma Simmons had never considered herself a jealous person. In fact, she’d always been comfortable and sure of who she was and what she had, so there’d never even been room for jealousy in her life. But, as she’d begun to learn over the past couple of years, when it came to the most precious thing in her life, all limits or reasoning seemed to all-but disappear.

And this was especially obvious as Jemma peered through the window into the newly repaired lab, watching as Fitz chatted with Dr. Elise Evans, shoulders shaking as they shared a joke and a private smile.

She actually really _liked_ the specially-trained psychologist Coulson had brought in after the Framework to help those with two lives living inside of their heads (and those who had been horrified witnesses to it all), thought she was kind and insightful and a fantastic listener. But, the problem was, she was also beautiful, with big green eyes and flowing auburn hair and also in possession of an apparent liking for Jemma’s boyfriend.

Jemma’s hands tightened their grip around her half-empty cup of tea as she stewed over how _unprofessional_ this all was, though the sickening twist of her stomach and the bitter taste of anger on her tongue told her that her reaction actually had very little to do with professionalism.

In the lab, Fitz had put down one of the damaged ICERs he’d been working on (at first, he’d all-but refused to touch any of his projects, too afraid of creating something else terrible like the Framework, like _AIDA_ , but Dr. Evans had worked with and gotten him to start small and take baby steps – and _god_ , how could Jemma dislike the woman that was helping Fitz so much?). Now, instead, he was facing Dr. Evans, his full focus on their conversation, and all she could hear were alarm bells ringing in her head because they were _too close_.

Now, there wasn’t a single part of Jemma that ever thought Fitz would cheat on her – he just wasn’t that kind of person, and she was confident that he would never hurt her in that way. But there _was_ a part of her, a tiny little insecurity that had been born inside of her when a Fitz that wasn’t truly Fitz had said those truly _awful_ words to her, had told her they meant nothing to each other and that the woman he loved wasn’t _her_.

She still remembered with absolute clarity witnessing the conversation Fitz had with AIDA after their escape from the Framework, remembered hearing him confess to having only room for one person in his heart and that person was _her_ , but though they’d begun to work through his fears of being unworthy and mend their relationship, he’d still never said those words to _her_. It left that insecurity open and vulnerable to grow freely as she watched the closeness between Fitz and another woman, a woman he actually seemed able to _open up_ to and be honest with, unlike her.

And perhaps that was what had the sickening jealousy bubbling up in the pit of her stomach the most – why couldn’t he speak to _her_ like that? Why did he continue to hide from her, to shy away from sharing his thoughts and feelings with her? Did he believe they weren’t safe with her? Could he give her his heart, but not trust her with his most intimate thoughts?

“Glare any harder and you’ll burn them to a crisp.”

Startled at the sudden voice, Jemma whirled around, nearly spilling her tea in her haste. She found Daisy eyeing her in both amusement and disbelief. “Oh. Hello Daisy, how are you?”

Daisy chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning a shoulder against the wall beside Jemma. “Give it up, Simmons, I know exactly what you were doing. Even though, for the record, I think it’s completely unnecessary.”

Jemma scoffed, throwing another quick glance into the lab, where Fitz and Elise were now sitting on the edge of his desk, side-by-side and practically shoulder-to-shoulder. “Oh? You think so? You have eyes, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do, and they’ve seen the most epic, unbelievable display of true love unfold over the past four years. And I can sure as hell tell you that _she_ wasn’t involved.” She thumbed toward Dr. Evans, who had a hand resting on Fitz’s shoulder. “What’s got you so worked up about this anyway? Like, how do you know that she isn’t just giving him extra therapy? Because he sure as hell needs it.”

“ _Daisy_.” Jemma shook her head, smiling humorlessly. “Come _on_. You’re seeing the same thing as I am, and you’ve likely seen them spending almost every day for the past couple of weeks together. In fact, _I’ve_ barely seen him, and you must know that isn’t the greatest of signs.”

Daisy didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, well, what does Fitz have to say about it?”

“Oh, quite a bit, actually. She’s all he ever seems to talk about these days. ‘ _Elise_ said this’, or ‘ _Elise_ and I did that’, or ‘ _Elise_ is so much more understanding that you Jemma’.”

“Okay, I’m not sure _anyone_ would believe he’s ever actually said that last one.”

“Well, he might as well have.” Jemma sighed, tearing her gaze away from the sight in the lab to smile sadly at Daisy. “I like to believe that Fitz and I are stronger, better together than we are apart, but…what if he no longer does? He’s been through so much, and…and maybe I’m not what he needs anymore.”

“Oh come _on_.” Daisy leveled an incredulous look at her. “That’s the most _absurd_ thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve _seen_ how Fitz looks at you, okay? For _years_. And all I’ve ever seen is his unquestionable love for you. There are zero doubts in my mind that Fitz is one hundred percent devoted to you. Some flirty little redhead with a psychology degree isn’t going to change that, Jemma.”

“Well, alright, perhaps not, but –”

“No buts,” Daisy interrupted, shaking her head. “If you guys would just _talk_ to each other, you’d realize how ridiculous you’re being right now.”

Jemma wasn’t sure she believed that, not with the doubts swimming around in her head and the unfamiliar and sour taste of jealousy at the back of her throat. “It’s not that easy, Daisy,” she admitted softly.

“Yeah, it is,” Daisy disagreed.

-

“She’ll barely look at me half the time,” Fitz confessed, releasing a sigh and blinking back tears as he fiddled absently with the broken ICER in his hands. “I’m afraid… I mean, I thought we’d worked through all of the stuff that happened in the Framework, that she didn’t hold anything I did in there against me, even though she _should_ –”

“Hey,” Elise cut in quickly, “no. What have we talked about?”

Fitz made a face, scowling down at his hands, but after a moment he dutifully answered, “None of the choices I made in there were actually _mine_ , I wasn’t in control and therefore can’t be held accountable.”

“Exactly,” she praised, reaching out to give his forearm a brief squeeze. “Fitz, I can’t tell you what Jemma’s thinking, but…you know, you’d be able to solve a lot more of these problems if you actually _talked_ to her.” She nudged him playfully in the ribs with her elbow. “She _is_ your girlfriend, not to mention your best friend, after all.”

“I _know_ ,” Fitz sighed, setting down the ICER and turning so that he could perch on the edge of his desk, shoulders sagging in defeat. “It’s just never been our…strong suit, I guess. It was always so effortless when science was all we ever had to worry about, because we were always just on the same page. It’s like…I could trust her to know what I was thinking, sometimes even before I thought it myself. But with emotions and all that other important stuff? S’like we’re speaking two different languages.”

“So, what, you just never discussed emotions with her?” she asked disbelievingly.

“ _No_.” He crossed his arms over his chest, making a face. “I mean, we were actually always really open with what was bothering us and I know how to read her emotions better than anything, and she can always tell when I’m about to break down, but…but it was never about _us_ , about our friendship or the way we felt about each other.” He smiled humorlessly as he remarked, “Probably why it took me so damn long to figure out I was bloody well in love with her, actually. I just…never really gave much thought to how I felt about Jemma. She was my best friend, and I just always expected her to be in my life and never accepted an alternative to that.”

Elise perched on the desk beside him, smiling gently. “And it was only once you were forced to that you realized what you felt was actually love?” When Fitz nodded sadly, she reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Fitz, why don’t you just tell _her_ all of this? You were able to talk about it easily enough with me.”

Fitz rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling, sighing so heavily that his shoulders rose and fell with it. “Yeah, well, ‘cause you’re not Jemma. When I’m speaking with her, especially now, especially after what’s happened, I’m always afraid that whatever comes out of my mouth next might finally be the thing that pushes her away, the thing that finally has her coming to her senses and heading for the hills.”

Elise laughed warmly, giving his shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Oh Fitz, it’s my job to observe and understand human behavior, and let me tell you, even if I hadn’t had sessions with Jemma, I’d know she was completely in love with you. I doubt anything you say could ever get her to stop loving you, because it’s just not that simple.”

Looking hopeful for the first time in awhile, Fitz lowered his eyes to meet her gaze with a cautious smile. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Elise answered gently, “but I think you still need to hear it from her.”

-

That night, Jemma waited up for him in their bunk, sitting on the end of their bed and trying to convince herself that she wasn’t about to lose the person she loved more than anything else in the world. But, she reminded herself, she would also give up her world _for_ him, however that looked – even if it meant letting him go to be happier elsewhere.

When he finally entered the bunk and Jemma glanced up at the sound of the door opening, she could see his obvious surprise that she was still up. Then, the surprise turned to relief (and nervousness?) as he closed the door behind him. “Hey, good, you’re still awake. I…um…I wanted to talk.”

Jemma felt a wave of nausea rush through her, and she wondered wildly if he’d come to tell her that he’d fallen out of love with her. Would she ever be able to stomach seeing him with someone else? Would she ever be able to rid herself of the aching, burning _jealousy_ inside of her every time she laid eyes on them together, knowing that she wasn’t enough for him?

“I did too, actually,” she admitted, taking a deep breath as her hands wrung together in her lap. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sudden thought occurred to her that she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to hear him say the words, so she hurried to get them out first to try and save herself at least some heartache. “Fitz, I _know_ , okay? And we can’t keep going on like this, because it’s turning me into someone I’m not. I’m tired of feeling like this, it’s making me _sick_.”

Fitz sucked in a shaky breath, nodding slowly, though his rapid blinks told her that there were tears building in his eyes. “Uh…okay, yeah…what…um, what do you think we should do about it, then?”

The words brought her back to a time when their future had been laid out before them, a beautiful unanswered question that she’d so looked forward to answering. She never could’ve imagined it’d go _this_ horribly, not in a million years (though a part of her couldn’t help but remember what _she’d_ been putting him through at the time, and perhaps this was her payback for hurting him in such a way). “Isn’t it obvious? Fitz, we can’t keep this charade up if one of us isn’t happy.”

He swallowed visibly, closing his eyes tightly and inhaling sharply. His curled his hands into trembling fists as he nodded rapidly. Jemma felt a lick of confusion at his extreme reaction, but before she could question him about it, he asked a bit desperately, “I just…I need to know what…what did I do? So I don’t spend the rest of my life torturing myself over every little mistake I’ve made, what was it that finally did me in?”

Jemma frowned deeply. Was he pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about, or…? “Fitz…I’m talking about you and…and Dr. Evans.”

At first, there was no visible reaction to the words. But, then his eyes popped open and he stared at her in bewilderment. “Me and _Elise_? What does she have to do with this? Is it because I talk to her about us? Because…I mean, she’s my friend and a psychologist so…so I thought that was okay, but…”

She stared blankly at him a moment, then asked plainly, “Fitz, aren’t you in love with her?”

“ _What_?” Jemma wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Fitz more caught off-guard than he was in that moment. “In love with… _Elise_? Are you… Wait, is _that_ why you’ve been so upset with me lately? Because you thought…”

“You’re telling me you _aren’t_?” Jemma wasn’t sure what to feel, equally confused and hopeful and scared.

“Of _course_ not! How could you even…?”

Jemma threw her hands up as she cried, “I don’t _know_! I just always saw you together, smiling and laughing, and you opened up to her and spent so much time with her and…”

“You were _jealous_ ,” Fitz breathed, his eyes wide as it finally occurred to him. When Jemma made a face and shrugged, he let out a quiet chuckle. “It’s…I mean, I never want to make you feel badly, about _anything_ , and I’m so sorry that I have, but…” A disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “I just can’t believe Jemma Simmons was _jealous_ of some girl being friends with me.”

Jemma groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You’re not making me feel better, Fitz,” she told him pointedly, the words slightly muffled.

“Sorry, sorry. I just don’t understand how you could think…” Then, he trailed off, releasing a heavy sigh and planting his hands on his waist. “Or maybe I do. I guess I haven’t done the best I could to remind you how much you mean to me and that you’re…you’re the only person that could ever make me happy, y’know? I just…I couldn’t even begin to imagine loving anyone but you. You’re…you’re everything I need, everything I don’t deserve, and just… _everything_. There’s no one for me but you. Never has been.” He went quiet for a moment, then asked softly, “How could you doubt that? Have I not shown you how much you mean to me?”

“You _have_ ,” Jemma assured him quickly, lifting her head from her hands and standing to approach him, “Oh Fitz, of course you have. I don’t know what’s come over me recently but… I suppose I’m just so terrified of losing you. I never would have imagined it could ever be to another woman before, but…”

“None of that was real,” Fitz reminded her firmly, a truth that had been drilled into each and every one of those who had been held hostage in the Framework. “None of what I felt for her was real. What I feel for _you_ , however, is the most real thing in my life. When I have nothing else, I have that.” Removing his hands from his hips, he grasped hers and laced their fingers together. “Jemma, tell me what I need to do to convince you that you’re all I’ll ever want.”

“You already have,” she admitted, smiling a bit embarrassedly as she squeezed his fingers between hers. “I overreacted, I can see that _quite_ clearly now. But, it does bring up something important; we _need_ to be able to talk to each other, Fitz. Misunderstandings like this can be avoided completely if we just allowed ourselves to be more open with each other.”

“Oh, trust me, I know. I’m…I’m working on it, okay?” Fitz’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “I think we both are. And in the spirit of that, let me be open and tell you that you, Jemma Simmons, are the only woman in any universe, in any reality, that I will ever choose to be with, choose to give my heart to. S’been yours for over a decade, anyway.”

Jemma bit her bottom lip, but it did little to hold back the blindingly bright grin that appeared on her face. Using her grip on his hands, she tugged him closer until she could press her lips to his. “Good,” she murmured, “because I _hate_ feeling jealous.”

“I dunno, green did look pretty good on you,” he couldn’t help but tease. When Jemma leaned back to allow him to see her narrowed eyes, Fitz was quick to go on, “Right, never mind. Forget I said anything and let’s just go back to the kissing.”

And because she loved him dearly and was so utterly relieved to find that all of this had just been a silly overreaction, Jemma let it slide and pulled him back in with a warm smile.

Oh, she truly had been kidding herself, thinking she could give this wonderful man up, hadn’t she? Well, lucky for her, he was exactly where he wanted to be, where he’d _always_ want to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	14. From the POV of Davis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written post 4x21, prompted on tumblr by @hemnalini: "Shayna dearie, in the loving memory of Agent Davis the Loyal (*prays hard that he's not dead*), could you write an FS fic from his PoV? Guy has been there the whole damn time, seen FS grow up in front of his eyes, seen them go through hell, protected them and has been loyal and brave to the very end. I am deeply emotional :'(".

He first meets Fitz and Simmons while he’s on a field team that is tasked with investigating a particle accelerator in Utah. There are these two kids, smiling and excitedly discussing possible causes of the explosion that had occurred there, that had supposedly given a woman unexplainable powers. They’re talking over and around each other, words blending until it’s complete gibberish to him, but they seem to still understand each other perfectly.

Though they have an inescapable youthful air to them, though they still have those big grins most SHIELD agents seem incapable of forming after a few years in the field, they also have obvious intelligence and authority, and it’s clear that they know exactly what they’re doing.

Davis has heard of them, of course – who hasn’t? SHIELD’s top science duo is practically legend within the organization, the youngest graduates of Sci-Tech Academy to date and the brains behind some of their best equipment in the field.

But, even though he’s heard all the stories about Fitzsimmons, he hadn’t expected them to be so _young_.

Of course, the next time he lays eyes on them, they aren’t anymore.

Davis is brought into Coulson’s new SHIELD a few months after the fall. He’d been one of the lucky ones, able to hide under the radar and avoid capture or execution at HYDRA’s hands – but he knows others weren’t so lucky, knows friends who weren’t. So when Coulson finds him he doesn’t even have to think before agreeing to fight the people who caused all of that pain and death (and his beautiful, dear Molly understands, even though they’ve finally just gotten married, even though he’s promised that the days of risking his life are in the past).

The Playground is big and empty at the time, Coulson’s efforts to recruit moving slowly, but Davis is more than willing to pick up the slack, to go out on each and every mission he’s assigned and do what he can to keep the world safe from the monsters behind HYDRA.

Because who else would do such a thing to such bright young minds but monsters?

Davis catches his first glimpse of Fitzsimmons on his second day at the Playground, catching sight of them through the windows of the lab. He stops at the sight of the familiar faces, smiling slightly as he remembers the way they spoke rapidly of things _way_ over his head, so filled with love and wonder for the science they’d dedicated their lives to.

But, then he notices that Fitz’s whole body is shaking, his hands trembling violently and his jaw clenched tightly, and Simmons is trying desperately to soothe him, tears standing in her eyes and her forced smile wobbling dangerously.

He doesn’t know yet what’s happened, but there’s one clear thought in his mind: _HYDRA_.

Because who else could take the youthful, eager Fitzsimmons and break them apart until they’re Fitz and Simmons, no longer innocent, but monsters?

(And when he does finally hear the story, the only thing Davis can think is that he’d never have imagined those kids being so _brave_ in the face of such insurmountable odds, but they did, they survived, and he has nothing but respect and admiration for the two).

The next few months are filled with a tooth-and-nail fight against those monsters, and some days are wins and some days are losses, and some days there _are_ losses, but Davis watches on the sidelines as Coulson’s team comes into their own and makes some headway. He sees Fitz and Simmons working together again, sometimes even catches sight of them sharing brief conversations in the halls of the Playground. It’s far from where they’d begun, far from where they should be, but it’s a start, and he can’t help but think that if they can overcome the heartache they’d suffered, then SHIELD can do whatever it has to in order to take down HYDRA.

Then, suddenly, HYDRA isn’t the real threat, not today at least. There’s powered-people, and Skye’s one of them, and her newfound mother is threatening to destroy SHIELD to keep her people safe.

Of course, as always, Coulson’s team manages to stop the world from ending, to stop the threat of more unnecessary deaths, and it’s a huge victory for them all after so long of floundering in the constant fight against HYDRA.

And in a victory of its own, Davis glimpses Fitz and Simmons in the days after, sitting close together in the lounge and sharing smiles and looking to be on the verge of mending the damage done to the relationship in the takeover. And, perhaps, maybe even discovering something new and unknown (after all, he’s pretty sure he wears that same look that’s on Fitz’s face, every time he lays eyes on his Molly, and he’s happy to know that others have found what they share).

Then, Simmons disappears.

No one quite knows what to think at first. Of course, Simmons’s friends are distraught, but the rest of the base is restless, wondering what unknown threat is out there and waiting for them. Davis, however, worries most for Fitz.

In the days, weeks, months following Simmons’s disappearance, Fitz falls apart, he fractures in front of them all and there are whispers that he’s gone off the deep end. Why hasn’t he just accepted that Simmons is dead? What does he possibly think could have happened if that rock hadn’t killed her?

Davis isn’t sure what to think – he’s always believed in the greater good, in a better world, and what better world would leave Fitz without Simmons? But, he also has to admit that after six months, it doesn’t look good.

Until, one day, the base is abuzz with talk of something big going down in England, big enough that the monolith has been transported there by Daisy herself, and it may have something to do with Simmons and the shots followed by anguished screaming they’d all heard echoing down the halls the night before.

And when the Zephyr returns later that day, Davis happens to be in the hangar at the right moment to see Fitz coming down the ramp, supporting a clearly weak and dirt-covered Simmons, barely awake but _alive_. He can’t quite believe his eyes – but when he hears stories that can’t _possibly_ be real about Fitz crossing universes to rescue Simmons from an alien planet, he sure as hell believes that Fitz had found the supposedly impossible answer to save his partner.

In the days after, they all see a skittish Simmons being carefully led around the base by Fitz every so often, and it’s a huge boost to moral that they haven’t lost someone else after months spent believing they had – especially Simmons, who’s quick thinking and brilliance has saved them all more than once.

But, then rumors of a stranded astronaut begin to trickle through the Playground, rumors that it’s come between Fitz and Simmons and created yet another rift. Davis can’t believe that, though, when each time he sees them together they’re hard at work, _together_ , and if they’re still speaking then surely it can’t be as bad as it was.

(Of course, the whispers of a pair of kisses witnessed by a lone lab tech that cannot be confirmed or denied only seem to be more proof that whatever happened in those six months Simmons was missing isn’t enough to come between the unbreakable pair.)

After another cross-dimension trip and the extinguishing of another threat in the form of Grant Ward, a few months pass with relative peace. But, as it always seems to when it comes to SHIELD, the peace doesn’t last long, and before they know it, they’re up against an alien god worshipped by HYDRA, who takes one of their own, using her against them, and things look bleak.

But, amid all the despair and omnipresent hopelessness, Davis happens to glimpse a tiny bit of light in the darkness.

After Fitz, Simmons, and Mack return empty-handed from Bucharest, and after Mack is brutally attacked at the hands of a brainwashed Daisy, things around the base are tense and everyone is on high alert. Coulson has them up all hours of the night, taking shifts monitoring the world-wide search for Daisy and the security camera footage of the base.

Davis’s shift starts at the crack of dawn, and it’s only with a couple cups of coffee that he manages to stay awake to keep watch on the bank of monitors. There’s no change, no matches for facial recognition, not a soul stirring in the base (besides May, of course).

Until a flash of movement catches his eye, and Davis quickly leans forward to get a closer look. However, when he realizes that it’s just the opening of a door in the living quarters of the base, he releases a breath of relief and leans back in his seat.

Then, he notices _who_ it is. It’s Fitz, clothes noticeably rumpled (hadn’t Davis seen him wearing those same clothes yesterday?) as he leaves the bunk, and who’s left standing the doorway but _Simmons_. She’s wearing a robe, sash tied tightly, and a huge grin that matches Fitz’s.

Strangely, it’s at that moment that Davis remembers the last time he saw a grinning Fitzsimmons, back before the fall of SHIELD, during their first meeting. No, they aren’t kids anymore, but with those beaming smiles, all he can see is two kids in love.

And then, right before Davis’s eyes, Simmons tugs Fitz back in and kisses him for a long moment, solidifying the assumptions he’s already made (and of course, Davis is quick to look away, the moment feeling far too personal for him to witness).

By the time he checks to see if it’s safe, Simmons is just shutting the door of her bunk, and Fitz is strolling away, likely in the direction of his own bunk, wearing a smile a mile wide.

And the odds may be stacked against them all, but the little bit of happiness Fitz and Simmons have carved out has a smile tugging at Davis’s lips.

It isn’t too long after that they defeat Hive before he can infect billions of people with the same ungodly concoction that has turned some of Davis’s friends and colleagues into mindless monsters. But, they also lose Lincoln in the process, and it’s a short time later that Daisy leaves in the dead of night and starts showing up on the news instead.

Coulson steps down, Mace takes over, and things change at the Playground (and in Davis’s own life, because Molly’s pregnant and they’re having a baby and he’s never been happier). Through it all, however, Davis is glad to see that Fitz and Simmons grow closer, their relationship stronger. They’re rarely seen together these days with all the new systems in place, but when they are, they’re usually in good spirits, visibly happy to finally be spending time together.

Then, crazy things start happening – a man with a flaming skull and a demonic book and other dimensions. Then, after that’s been all-but resolved, there are mad scientists and power-mad robots and LMDs put in place to replace those within SHIELD. Davis is along for the ride, used to the strange and unexplainable after all his years in SHIELD, and is more than happy to assist in the resulting search for the Director.

In the compound their search leads them to, Coulson sends Davis into the basement as backup while Fitz and Simmons attempt to find anything that’ll lead them to Radcliffe’s Framework. But, when the news that AIDA is there reaches them, Simmons decides to split up, against Fitz’s wishes. He eventually relents under the (apparently not-so-comforting) promise that Davis will be with her, and though he pretends to be offended, Davis understands what Fitz is trusting him with. He swears to himself that he will protect Simmons until he can return her to Fitz, safe and whole, because he would want the same if he had to trust Molly in the hands of someone else.

And he does protect Simmons, stays by her side and refuses to allow that twisted robot of Dr. Radcliffe’s to harm her. But, in doing so, _Fitz_ is taken, and he can’t help but feel like he’s failed them.

So, when a bloody and broken Simmons comes to Davis, along with Piper and Prince, while LMDs descend on their base and they can’t quite know who to trust, he takes the chance to set his mistakes right. He uses every single bit of knowledge he’d managed to gain in the few lessons he’d had on flying the Zephyr to get Simmons and Daisy out of there so they can rescue the rest of their team, and he only hopes that he’s done enough to ensure their eventual success.

They spend ten long days doing their level best to protect the two women plugged into the Framework, experiencing things they couldn’t even begin to imagine, and Davis has one job: to keep them in the air and keep them safe, even though it seems to get harder and harder with each passing day to do so.

Finally, Daisy and Simmons emerge from the Framework, just as the Zephyr comes under attack, but they get out by the skin of their teeth and maybe, just maybe things will work out – they always seem to, don’t they?

But the odds are also against them – Mack is still plugged in after nearly drowning, the twisted robot is _human_ now and on board their plane, and somehow there’s concern that Fitz might not be _Fitz_.

Simmons doesn’t seem to share that opinion, though, and Davis trusts her (she knows Fitz better than any of them, doesn’t she?), so when she sends them to rescue Fitz from AIDA, he doesn’t even question it.

When they get to him, Fitz is panicking, and AIDA seems to have gotten loose, but Davis failed to protect Fitz once and he’s not going to again, so the only thing on his mind is getting Fitz the hell out of there and back to Simmons. The _thing_ kills a soldier, and Prince, and they’re only just realizing how out of their depth they are, but it doesn’t _matter_.

And when Davis has a shot on AIDA, he takes it, and he tells Piper to get Fitz out of there because he _will_ succeed this time and help them back to each other (it’s his fault they have been separated in the first place), he’s got this.

He breathes a sigh of relief as their quickened footsteps fade amid the sound of his continued gunfire, and finally, AIDA falls. Davis turns to hurry back to the others, entirely unsuspecting and feeling quite proud of himself.

It’s quick and comes out of nowhere.

And in the final moments, all Davis can think (other than the pervasive thoughts of his wonderful, precious Molly, of their little bundle of joy that he’ll never know) is that he hopes he’s done enough, that Fitz has managed to get the hell out of there and back to Simmons. Without them, SHIELD will surely be done for, and he can’t imagine losing everything each and every one of them has worked so hard to build and protect. Even if he won’t be around to see it, he knows that SHIELD needs to continue on, to do more good for the world because their job is never truly done.

If anyone can stop this seemingly indestructible robot-turned-human killer, Davis knows it’s Fitz and Simmons, the kids he’d met all those years ago with the world that always seems to be on their shoulders.

He’s helped them back together, and Davis knows he can trust them to keep the world a safe place for Molly and their baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	15. Academy Era + Bickering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a part of my second blog anniversary celebration, prompted on tumblr by @poursuislesetolies: "i have to ask for FS academy era ft. bickering and whatever else you want!!! whatever comes to mind!"

“Alright, what is it?”

Jemma glanced up from the neurobiology textbook she’d been leafing through, meeting Fitz’s knowing gaze. “What’s what?” she asked innocently.

Fitz rolled his eyes, not believing her terrible attempt at playing dumb for an instant. “C’mon Simmons, you’ve been on the same page for the last fifteen minutes – you could’ve had the whole bloody thing read in that time. Not to mention you’re fidgeting.”

“I am _not_ fidgeting,” Jemma argued defensively, but the protest was a bit much because she actually _had_ been tapping her feet and drumming her fingers off and on for the past few minutes.

“ _Simmons_.”

Heaving a sigh, Jemma closed the textbook, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch in Fitz’s living room. “Oh alright, I’ve just been thinking…”

“About?” Fitz set aside the magazine he’d bought earlier that day specifically for the article it contained on Tony Stark’s latest invention, giving her his full attention.

Jemma released a quiet breath, nervously wringing her hands in her lap as she tried to find the right words. However, what came out was a blurted, “I want you to teach me how to bake.”

Fitz’s eyebrows darted up his forehead, then furrowed in confusion. “What?” he asked blankly. Clearly, whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been _that_.

“I was going to ask your mum,” Jemma admitted, the words coming out in a rush now that she’d started, “but she’s so busy with work lately, and she’s always talking about the days you two used to spend in the kitchen together and she’s taught you everything you know about it, so…”

“Yeah, okay, but…” Fitz made a face, shaking his head absently. “ _Why_?”

Jemma sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she explained, “Well, you know how I’m not…fond of… _lacking_ in certain areas –”

“You hate not being perfect at everything, you mean? Yeah, I know a thing or two ‘bout that,” Fitz surmised, smiling knowingly at her scowl. “Well, do you deny it?”

She let out an insulted huff, crossing her arms over her chest…but a moment later, she answered grudgingly, “…No.”

Fitz smirked triumphantly. “So…what? You hate the fact that you can’t bake cookies? I mean, you had two PhDs by the time you were sixteen – I don’t think anyone’s gonna look down on you because you don’t fit some ridiculous stereotype. And if they do? Screw ‘em.”

“It’s not because of stereotypes, Fitz.” Jemma sighed, gazing at him imploringly. “I can’t really explain it. But…will you just help me? Please?”

Fitz studied her for a brief moment, likely attempting to discern the true reason she wanted to learn how to bake. But, it wasn’t long before he answered, “Yeah, alright. But only ‘cause you said ‘please’.” He got up from the couch, nodding for her to follow him as he headed through the doorway into the cozy little kitchen his mum loved so fiercely. “And, uh…just promise me if you blow the place up or something, you’ll take the blame? I think my mum would murder me if she thought it was my fault.”

“So you’d rather she murder me?” Jemma asked in mock-insult, leaning up against the counter next to Fitz as he gathered the necessary supplies.

He scoffed loudly, peering around the cupboard door to give her a disbelieving look. “Oh, come _on_. My mum _loves_ you – she wouldn’t harm a hair on your head! In her eyes, Jemma Simmons can do no wrong.”

Smirking, Jemma shrugged innocently. “Well, I can’t help it if your mum loves me, Fitz. Perhaps I’m just a loveable person, have you ever considered that?”

“Yeah, maybe, to people who _haven’t_ studied for final exams with you. They don’t know the Perfect Score Monster living inside of you, not like I do.”

Jemma rolled her eyes, groaning in annoyance. “Ugh _Fitz_ , you’re so dramatic. So what if we stayed up late a couple of nights? You aced all of your exams, did you not?”

“Stayed up late a couple of…” Fitz put down the glass bowl he’d retrieved, turning to face her completely, his mouth agape. “ _Simmons_ , you kept me awake for _forty-eight hours_ , shouting questions from your flash cards and throwing things at me until I got the right answer!”

“But you _aced all of your exams_ ,” Jemma repeated, emphasizing the words. When Fitz continued to stare at her in disbelief, she rolled her eyes and asked pointedly, “Are you going to teach me something about baking, or are you going to continue to gape at me like a dead fish?”

“That’s the monster talking,” Fitz muttered under his breath, but did turn to finish gathering what they’d need. When all of the supplies and ingredients had been laid out on the counter, he turned back to Jemma and said, “Okay, so the first step is easy: just pre-heat the oven.” After she had proudly done so, he went on, “Next, you’re going to melt the butter.”

“That’s easy,” she commented happily, picking up the stick of butter, removing the wrapping, and dropping the butter into the glass bowl, which promptly went into the microwave. And when the timer went off, she removed the bowl and held it out proudly.

“It’s not melted enough,” Fitz observed, shaking his head.

Jemma gaped down at the melting butter in the bowl. “What are you talking about? It’s perfect!”

“I think _I’ll_ be the judge of that.” He took the bowl from her and replaced it in the microwave, setting it for a bit longer and completely ignoring Jemma’s disgruntled look.  When it came out this time, Fitz nodded approvingly. “Okay, now you’ll mix it with the sugar.”

Jemma eyed the small group of ingredients gathered together on the counter, taking a deep breath and nodding. This was just like chemistry, and she _excelled_ at chemistry – how much harder could using food instead of chemicals be? “Alright, so I mix the butter and the sugar. Easy enough, I suppose.”

Taking the wooden spoon Fitz handed her, Jemma stirred together the butter and sugar as he monitored. “Okay, now it’s time to add the flour, baking powder, salt, and vanilla,” he instructed after a few minutes.

Overwhelmed, Jemma glanced back to the remaining ingredients on the counter, then to the mixture of butter and sugar in the bowl.

“It’s easy,” Fitz encouraged, handing her a measuring cup. “It’s just like measuring out chemicals, okay? And you’re great at that.”

Except, Jemma apparently wasn’t great at it when it came to _baking ingredients_ , given that when she dumped the flour unceremoniously into the bowl, a cloud of it went up and had them both coughing and sputtering, now partially covered in the fine white dust.

“Be a _bit_ more careful with your pouring,” Fitz advised, automatically shying away from the fierce glare Jemma shot at him. “I’m just saying.”

“ _Thank you_ , Fitz,” she ground out, _carefully_ pouring the rest of the ingredients into the bowl. With that finished, she picked the spoon back up to mix all of it together now.

“Simmons! Be careful! You’re going to…” Fitz trailed off, heaving a sigh and planting his hands on his hips as he stared down at the flour and baking powder that had been forced out of the bowl and onto the counter. “…make a mess,” he finished after a beat. “Well…at least it wasn’t me this time.”

“It still _could_ be,” Jemma pointed out, and he held his hands up in surrender, staying mercifully silent as she finished mixing it up.

“You’re going to add the egg next.” Jemma obligingly retrieved the single egg from the counter. “Use the side of the bowl to crack it,” he suggested, and she took the advice, knocking the egg against the edge of the bowl and promptly breaking it apart in her hand. “No no _no_! Simmons, _stop_!” Fitz frantically pulled the bowl away from her, immediately beginning to carefully pick out the tiny pieces of eggshell that had landed in the dough with the yolk. “ _Christ_ , just drop the whole egg in why don’t you!”

“Well how was I supposed to know that it would break apart like that?!” Jemma demanded, planting her hands on her hips.

“They’re _eggs_ , Simmons! I didn’t think I had to tell you they were fragile.” Sighing, he glanced from the meager amount of shell pieces he held in one of his palms, then grimaced at the dough. “Well…I guess a little bit of eggshell never hurt anybody. Okay, stir that up, then we’ll add the chocolate chips.”

Taking the bowl back from Fitz and grimacing down at it, Jemma mixed in the egg yolk (and the remaining pieces of shell, of course), then picked up the opened bag of chocolate chips Fitz had been sneaking every so often (she’d been pretending not to notice).

And without preamble, she began pouring the contents of the bag into the bowl.

“Wait! That’s too much!” Jemma lowered the now empty bag, wincing at the pile of chocolate chips now lying on top of the dough.

“Sorry,” she apologized, sighing softly. How had she possibly managed to screw up almost each and every step? It was _baking_ _cookies_!

“Y’know what? Don’t apologize.” Fitz nudged her shoulder lightly with his. “A little extra chocolate’s never killed anyone, yeah?”

“Well, actually, depending on the circumstance I can imagine –”

“ _Simmons_.”

Shrugging at Fitz’s clearly exasperated tone, Jemma told him plainly, “You did ask me a question – I was just trying to answer it.”

He groaned, dropping his head back and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Just stir in the chocolate chips, alright?”

Jemma did as instructed, and once the chocolate chips had been worked in as well as she could manage, Fitz made room on the counter for a baking tray, talking her through separating the dough into little round balls.

“Make sure you keep them small, okay?”

“Okay.”

“No no, that’s too small.”

“Alright.”

“That one’s too big.”

“But it’s bigger than the last one!”

“Yeah, but now it’s _too_ big. They need to be somewhere in the middle.”

“ _Fine_.”

“And…try to smooth them out a bit more, okay? They’re a bit… _lumpy_.”

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Jemma replaced the chunk of cookie dough she’d been holding back in the bowl and whirled around to face him. “ _Fitz_ , do you really have to micromanage the way I’m rolling _cookie dough_?”

Fitz let out a startled laugh, his eyebrows shooting nearly up to his hairline. “Do I have to…? You’re _kidding_ me, right? Simmons, you’re practically the _queen_ of micromanaging! You’re always complaining about my part of our projects, trying to tell me how to do _my_ job, not to mention telling me what to eat, when to sleep, how much to study!”

“Oh, you should be _thanking_ me for that. The amount of unhealthy habits you have is _ridiculous_ , Fitz. At this rate, you’ll be dead before you turn fifty!”

“Yeah well at least I wouldn’t have you constantly nagging me anymore,” Fitz muttered. When Jemma threw a dark glare in his direction, he nodded toward the still nearly empty cookie tray. “Just…go back to making your cookies.”

Letting his snide comment go, Jemma focused back on rolling the cookie dough into balls that weren’t _too_ _big_ and weren’t _too small_. When the bowl was empty and the tray was covered with the uneven, chocolate-chip-infested cookies, she finally placed them in the oven and turned to Fitz. “I guess we’ll know in twenty minutes if I’ve failed horribly or not.”

“I bet they’ll be fantastic,” Fitz told her optimistically, but Jemma wasn’t so sure.

However, as the twenty minutes passed, she began to grow more and more hopeful that, despite all of the mistakes she’d made, the end result was going to be _much_ better. And by the time the oven timer was going off, she was nearly bursting with excitement once more, winning out over her upset at her disastrous first attempt at baking.

“How do they look?” she asked Fitz, bouncing anxiously on her toes.

“Well…” Fitz cleared his throat, and Jemma felt her heart sinking once more.

“Oh.” Shoulders sagging, she dropped her gaze to the floor and blinked rapidly to stop herself from tearing up. It was just a silly batch of cookies, nothing to _really_ be upset over, but…

“Hey, wait, no. Simmons, don’t cry, okay?” Fitz opened the oven, putting on an oven mitt and removing the tray to place on top of the stove. “So they’re a little…oddly-shaped, but I’m sure they taste great.”

Jemma sniffled, rolling her eyes and hugging her arms around herself. “Fitz, you don’t have to say that, alright?”

“I’m not! Really, I can’t _wait_ to try one.” The amount of excitement over the disgusting cookies he managed to infuse in his voice brought a grateful little smile to her lips.

“Fitz…”

“I mean it!”

And sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, when the cookies had cooled down, Fitz actually picked one up and _took a bite out of it_. The big grin he was wearing for her benefit faltered just slightly, but ultimately remained plastered on his face as he chewed and swallowed, giving her a thumb’s up.

“They’re awful, aren’t they?” Jemma asked knowingly, smiling sadly.

Fitz let out a little cough, then cleared his throat a couple of times, made a face, and admitted, “Yeah, wretched, actually. Might have to have my stomach pumped.”

“ _Fitz_!” Jemma slapped his shoulder, very much not amused with his ill-humored teasing.

“Sorry, sorry!” He tossed the rest of the cookie in the bin, giving Jemma a supportive smile. “Hey, so you can’t bake perfect cookies on your first try – you can’t be born great at everything, it’s just not fair to the rest of us.” When she smiled slightly, he elbowed her lightly in the ribs. “Hey, all you need is some practice, okay? I’m sure if you work at it enough, you’ll be a genius in the kitchen just like you are in the lab.”

“Thanks Fitz,” she murmured, sighing softly.

-

When Fitz woke up a few mornings later, he knew his mother would’ve already left for work and he’d be alone in the house for the day, but he was sure Jemma would be up for chatting on the phone, which brightened his day considerably. After all, neither of them had much else going on in their lives at the moment.

However, when he descended the rickety old stairs and entered the kitchen to make some simple toast for breakfast, he was startled to find Jemma herself sitting at his kitchen table.

“ _Simmons_?”

She looked up at his surprised call of her name, beaming, though it seemed to be tinged in nerves. “Hello Fitz! Your mum let me in, I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, um…” He threw a quick glance at a nearby calendar, but the days of Jemma’s planned visits were circled in red – and today wasn’t one of them. “We didn’t make plans that I somehow forgot, did we?”

Jemma laughed, shaking her head reassuringly as she stood from her seat. “No no, don’t worry.” She didn’t move from her position in front of the table, and her strange behavior was beginning to freak Fitz out a bit.

“So…? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, but…what’s going on, Simmons?”

She blew out a nervous breath, nodding to herself. “Okay, um…” Turning around, she picked something up off the table from behind her, and when she turned back around, Fitz realized it was a _cake_ (a lopsided cake, but a cake all the same). “Happy Birthday, Fitz.”

Fitz knew he’d been staring blankly for too long now, but it had finally hit him why Jemma had been so desperate to learn how to bake, and he was absolutely _floored_ that she’d gone to all this trouble just to make him a _birthday cake_.

Shifting a bit anxiously at his lack of response, she hurriedly explained, “I knew your mum was going to be working, so you’d be all alone and she wouldn’t have time to make you a cake and I know you like homemade ones more than store-bought, so…” She chewed her bottom lip briefly, then went on, “I hope it’s alright.”

Swallowing thickly, Fitz finally found words to tell her hoarsely, “It’s perfect. Thank you, Simmons.”

Her beaming smile was back, seeming to brighten up the whole kitchen. “Oh you’re _welcome_ , Fitz.” She held the cake out to him, asking excitedly, “Would you like to have a slice? I haven’t tried it, but I’ve worked on perfecting my baking abilities ever since my unfortunate attempt with the cookies.”

Fighting back the warmth bubbling up in his chest and making it difficult to breathe, Fitz blurted out the first thing he could think of to try and get himself back on even footing. “You sure it’s edible? If I take a bite of that cake and die, I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your life, Simmons.”

“Of _course_ it’s edible! Ugh _Fitz_ , would you quit being so dramatic? I’m never doing anything nice for you ever again!”

Chuckling at the indignant look on his best friend’s face, Fitz gently took the cake from Jemma and set it back on the table. “Come on, Simmons, I’ll get plates and forks and if your poison cake is gonna kill us, then we’ll both die and haunt Professor Vaughn together.”

It was clear she was trying to fight it, but Fitz could see a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Oh hush, Fitz.”

After he’d retrieved the plates and silverware, he pulled up the chair beside Jemma, watching as she carefully cut into the poor lopsided cake, and he felt that swell of warmth rising once more in his chest. “Simmons?”

“Yeah?”

He paused long enough that Jemma glanced up curiously, and he took a deep breath before repeating sincerely, “Thank you.”

Jemma smiled widely, handing him his plate of cake and surprising him completely by ducking closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re welcome, Fitz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	16. Field Assessments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written as a part of my second blog anniversary celebration, for the prompt: "can you write about FitzSimmons and the field assignment/test they failed before getting into Coulson's team?"

“Hey Simmons?”

“Yes?”

“Any particular reason there’s a sign-up sheet for field assessments with my sandwich?”

Jemma hurried away from her lab bench, over to the table in the corner of the lab designated for meals only, where Fitz was sitting. She peered over his shoulder at the paper, creased from being folded neatly, that had been tucked in with the prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella sandwich (with a hint of her homemade pesto aioli) that she’d made for him to bring for lunch that day.

“Oh, well, would you look at that,” she commented innocently, her eyes overly wide with surprise.

Fitz rolled his eyes at her awful acting, reluctantly setting down the sandwich and turning to face Jemma completely. “C’mon Simmons, we both know you’re not fooling anyone.”

Jemma sighed heavily, reaching out to take the sign-up sheet from Fitz. “Well, you see, I’ve been thinking…”

“ _No_ ,” Fitz said immediately, shaking his head and holding up his hands to halt that train of thought. “Absolutely _not_ , Simmons. We’ve talked about this, okay? We don’t belong in the field; we belong in the _lab_ , where it’s safe and no one’s gonna try and shoot us in the bloody heads.”

“Yes, I know, but…” Jemma chewed her lip anxiously, fiddling absently with the paper in her hands. “Think about it, Fitz, there’s so much out there we’ve never seen, so much more _good_ we could do. Isn’t worth at least _trying_?”

“Simmons…”

“ _Please_ Fitz? We’ll just take them once, and if we don’t pass, I’ll never bring it up again.”

Fitz made the mistake of glancing at her pleading expression, the big hopeful eyes and the little pout, and he was _done for_. He’d never been able to figure out why, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to deny Jemma Simmons a damn thing – _especially_ when she gave him that look. “Oh alright, just _once_ then we forget about it, okay?”

A grin spread across Jemma’s face in an instant, and she looked about five seconds from jumping for joy. “If we don’t pass, of course. Oh thank you, Fitz! This so exciting!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Fitz pressed his lips together to hide his amused smile, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Now can I eat my sandwich in peace?”

“Of course! I’ll go start filling this out!”

Fitz watched Jemma practically skipping back to her bench, shaking his head fondly as he finally took a bite out of his sandwich. He knew this was going to be a disaster, of course, but if it made Jemma happy, then he’d go along with it.

And that was how, a couple of weeks later, Fitz found himself panting for breath, his lungs feeling as though they were about ready to give out as he stumbled his way through the obstacle course designed for field assessments. It was meant to test endurance, speed, and agility all at once, and Fitz was quite sure that he wasn’t showing an overwhelming amount of _any_ of the above.

By the time he’d finished, he was sweating and completely out of breath, bending over and resting his hands on his knees as he greedily gulped in air.

“How’d he do?” Jemma asked Agent Caldwell, who was overseeing the field assessments, excitedly, clasping her hands together.

Caldwell arched an eyebrow, lifting his gaze from his stopwatch to answer dryly, “About ten point two seconds worse than your time.”

Either ignoring or simply not picking up on Caldwell’s tone, Jemma hurried over to Fitz and squeezed his shoulder. “Fitz, did you hear that? You got through the course in seventeen minutes and twenty-three point six seconds!”

“Didn’t…Caldwell say…it’s supposed to…take ten?” Fitz huffed out, not having quite caught his breath yet.

“Well, yes,” Jemma admitted, but her sunny tone hadn’t faded in the slightest. “But, at least it didn’t take us double the time!”

“Bloody fantastic, that is,” Fitz muttered sarcastically. _More like a bloody miracle_ , he thought to himself, but he valued his life more than that, thank you, so he didn’t speak the words aloud.

The next leg of the test had them in the firing range. It wasn’t the first time Fitz had held a gun (in fact, he’d been holding quite a few lately, what with working on perfecting the design for the Night-Night Gun and all), but it _was_ the first time he had the intention of the pulling the trigger.

“Ready?” Caldwell asked, sounding (almost insultingly) bored where he stood off to the side, next to a control panel.

“Ready!” Jemma answered immediately.

“As I’ll ever be,” Fitz grumbled.

Caldwell pushed a button, and the targets began to move, as if it wouldn’t have been hard _enough_ with them staying still. Palms sweating and hands trembling, Fitz lifted the gun and fired…flinching automatically at the _bang_ and the force of the shot that had him jerking back.

Hearing the sporadic gunfire of Jemma’s shots nearby and remembering that they had a time limit, Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, pulled the trigger, and hoped he wasn’t making a _complete_ fool of himself.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Caldwell called, “Time!” and Fitz cracked open his eyes in time to see the targets slow to a stop.

Setting her gun down carefully and removing her safety glasses, Jemma hurried over to where Caldwell was waiting for them, Fitz trailing behind her. “Well?” she prompted anxiously.

Caldwell checked the small screen on the control panel, making a quiet noise of surprise. “Huh. Well, you’ve managed to hit a grand total of one target.”

“We _did_?” Fitz asked incredulously. How had _that_ happened?

“Well at least one is better than none,” Jemma pointed out, somehow _still_ wearing that same smile she’d had on all day.

“Is that is, then?” Fitz questioned hopefully, “Is the assessment over?”

“Not quite yet; all that’s left is the situational assessment,” Jemma informed him brightly. “We’re nearly finished.”

Caldwell sighed, leveling a look at them as he said plainly, “Look, if you want to stop now, you can.” Releasing a relived sigh, Fitz opened his mouth to accept the offer so that he could just go home and sleep for a couple of weeks, but then he went on, “The situational assessment is the hardest part of the test, and no one would blame you if you opted out now.”

 _Damn it_.

Fitz’s shoulders sagged as he watched his golden opportunity for freedom slip right through his fingers. Beside him, Jemma straightened up, planting her hands on her hips and throwing her fiercest scowl at Caldwell. “And what’s _that_ supposed to mean? You think we couldn’t do it? I’ll have you know Fitz and I can do _anything_ a field agent can, and _of course_ we’ll finish the test.”

Taken aback, Caldwell quickly looked to Fitz, so he forced a smile and nodded in agreement (he knew _far_ better than to disagree with Jemma when she was this determined). “Well…if you say so,” Caldwell said slowly.

“We do,” Jemma replied firmly.

As it turns out, the “situation” part of situational assessment turned out to be the two of them, alone, stuck in an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by hostiles (played by fellow agents, of course), and with only a pair of guns (containing rubber bullets, obviously) between the two of them as protection.

 _Fantastic_.

“Oh! _Fitz_ ,” Jemma hissed, leaning carefully around the tree she was currently using as cover.

“ _What_?” he hissed back from behind his own tree a few yards away.

“There’s a building over there that’s perfect for lying low and coming up with a plan.”

Though Fitz doubted there was any ‘plan’ they could come up with to get out of this, he followed the path of her index finger to a rundown rickety old shack in the distance, partially hidden by trees. “And how do you suggest we _get_ there?”

“Oh…” Jemma glanced around for some way to get past all of the other (specially trained for the field) agents and to safety. “A- _ha_!” Bending over, she picked up a rock, testing the weight of it for a moment. Then, without warning, she heaved the rock into the bushes in the opposite direction and took off at a run, grasping Fitz’s hand and yanking him along with her on her way past.

By some miracle, they made it to the shack, practically falling through the doorway in their haste. Breathing hard from the sprinting and the fading adrenaline, they immediately collapsed against the wall, beneath a tiny, cracked window. When the door didn’t come bursting down behind them, Jemma said, “I don’t think we were spotted.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t mean they’re not out there.” Fitz twisted around to peer out the window, quickly ducking back down when he caught a glimpse of one of the “hostile” agents looking their way. “Bloody _hell_ , there’s a _dozen_ of them, just waiting to shoot us the second we step out of this shack!”

“I’m sure there aren’t _that_ many,” Jemma insisted optimistically. “And besides, if we go about this right, we’ll do just fine.”

“What are you…” Fitz turned to gape at her in disbelief. “Simmons, you can’t _possibly_ think this is going well.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s going quite well.”

Fitz heaved a tired sigh, closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the wall. “There’s no way we’re going to pass this test, Simmons. We’ve failed nearly every section, and the only reason we didn’t completely fail the weapons section is because of a lucky shot. We’re just not suited for the field like other agents are, okay?”

Jemma was quiet for a long moment, and Fitz knew instantly that he’d upset her. And sure enough, when he opened his eyes, he found her gazing gloomily down at the gun resting in her lap.

“Aw, c’mon Simmons, don’t get all sad on me. I’m just being honest with you.” He scooted closer, until his shoulder was pressed against hers. “You had to know we weren’t going to take these field assessments and excel at them after a lifetime of being…less than athletically-inclined.”

“Well, no…” She sighed heavily. “But, I just hoped…I don’t know… I suppose it was foolish of me, wasn’t it?”

“Hey, no, don’t be so hard on yourself Simmons.” Fitz nudged her shoulder with his. “You were just excited at the prospect of doing something new and thrilling, and no one can blame you for that. I mean, you do tend to…run away with an idea once it occurs to you.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry for making you do this, Fitz.” She glanced up, giving him a tiny but sincere smile.

“Don’t apologize,” he insisted, “After all, what better way is there to spend a Saturday than running ridiculous obstacle courses and getting chased into a shack with you?”

When that managed to get a laugh out of her, Fitz smiled proudly. “So, I suppose the test is over then?”

“I’d say so.” He sat up a bit straighter and turned his head to peek out the window once more at the agents roaming around outside. “So what d’you say, should we go out there and surrender, or go down in a blaze of glory?”

That finally got a full grin out of Jemma. “Oh, blaze of glory, for sure.”

“On the count of three, then?”

At her nod, they counted down together, “One, two, three!”

And it was also together that, later that night, they sprawled out on their couch and attempted to ice all of their newly forming bruises from being hit with so many rubber bullets.

“Perhaps the blaze of glory thing wasn’t my brightest idea,” Fitz admitted, letting out a pained hiss as he moved one of his ice packs to cover a particularly nasty bruise on his hip.

“I’ll just take the blame for the whole day,” Jemma offered, dropping her head back against the arm of the couch and whimpering pathetically. “You were right, Fitz. It was silly of me to think we’d be able to pass those tests. I suppose we _are_ just meant to stay in the lab.”

Fitz couldn’t really move without aching all over, but he still inched his knee closer to hers until he could nudge it supportively. “Hey, at least we still have each other, yeah?”

A smile crept across Jemma’s face, and she tilted her head down to meet his eyes as she answered softly, “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	17. Post 4x22 Speculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speculation for Season 5, written post 4x22

Jemma Simmons was very, _very_ done with space.

She’d already been there, done that, and all against her will, _as usual_. Waking up to find herself trapped in a prison-like space station hidden in an asteroid belt? The most predominant emotion had been the overwhelming feeling of pure exasperation.

_Not this again_.

Her next thought, however, had been to wonder where the rest of her team was – where _Fitz_ was. They’d all been together in that diner, and that was the last thing she remembered. Had they been transported to the space station as well? Were they all there together, just being kept apart?

The only thing Jemma was more done with than space was being separated from Fitz. Hadn’t they endured enough of that already to last a lifetime?

And when the ever-silent, helmeted guards began to bring her to a tiny little lab each and every day to do work for whoever it was that had kidnapped them, she made no secret of how very much she did not agree with this arrangement.

In fact, by the time a few weeks had passed, Jemma felt as though the only words that left her mouth now were dry, sarcastic remarks. Even her near-constant attempts to find out information about her teammates (always unsuccessfully) came in the form of barbs directed at her guards.

“You know, I could get a lot more done if my _partner_ was here,” Jemma pointed out snidely, hoping against hope to finally shake _something_ out of them. She made sure to pause, just in case, but when there was (predictably) no response, she went on, “But _no_ , you want to keep us apart, _all_ of us. You’re afraid of us, of what we can accomplish when we come together.” She smirked, shaking her head at them. “But, you’re making a mistake. Fitz and I? We’re smarter together, we bring out the best in each other, and the work we do as a team? Truly remarkable.”

Yet again, there was no response from her tremendously irritating captors, and with a heavy sigh and the hopes of trying again tomorrow, Jemma went back to work. She’d, of course, tried _not_ working, tried protesting and outright refusing to work for their kidnappers (after all, she had no idea as to their intentions and what they were doing with the things she was being forced to create). But, she’d learned rather quickly that that wasn’t going to fly – her guards might be silent, but that only made them all the more _terrifying_ when they were provoked.

The bruises and aches still lingered even now, and Jemma had ultimately decided instead on simply making their days as miserable as hers were, which meant dragging her feet on every project as much as she reasonably could, along with the pointed remarks.

And so, she spent the rest of her day bored out of her mind and completely frustrated, toying with a project that would’ve taken her _hours_ under normal circumstances but had been effectively dragged out for the past few days.

It had only been weeks, but Jemma was already sick and tired of it all, and the idea that _this_ could be what the rest of her life looked like if they didn’t somehow manage to get out of there was downright nightmarish.

Fortunately for her, the nights were much more bearable than the seemingly never-ending days, because at night, she dreamt of Fitz.

The content of the dreams always varied, but Fitz’s presence in them never did – he was there every night when she closed her eyes. Sometimes it was a memory, sometimes it was a fervent hope for a future that seemed impossible now, and sometimes it was all feeling (skin on skin, lips brushing and limbs entangled).

That night’s dream was borne of a different kind of aching desire, however, and when Jemma woke the next morning in her dingy little cell, she could still feel the early morning sunlight against her skin, the dewy grass beneath her bare feet, and the warm weight of a sleepy little bundle in her arms.

For a moment, she laid in her cot, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to preserve the memory of the easy, loving smile on Fitz’s face as he’d joined her in the backyard of their little cottage in Perthshire, the memory of Fitz’s beautiful blue eyes in their child’s face as they blinked awake against her chest.

But, the image was shattered by a not-so-patient banging on the door of her cell, and her eyes sprung open to find only rusted metal and semi-darkness.

And of course, she was alone.

Sighing, Jemma climbed out of the cot, brushing her fingers carelessly through her hair a couple of times as she slipped on her shoes. As soon as she’d opened the cell door, her two regular guards were waiting to escort her to the lab.

_Just like every other day_.

When she arrived at the lab, Jemma was so caught up in mulling over ways to drag her current project out even longer that it took her a moment to notice that there were considerably more guards inside the lab than usual, and in the middle of the room was –

_Fitz_.

He glanced up curiously at her entrance, but the moment their gazes locked, time seemed to stop. Jemma’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt tears of relief welling up in her eyes as she took in his dear, _dear_ face. His stubble had been allowed to grow out into a bit more of a beard, and his hair into longer curls than she’d seen them in awhile. There were bags under his eyes, he’d lost a bit of weight (but so had she, and who could blame them?), and looked a bit worse for wear, but he was alive and whole and right in front of her, and that was more than enough for now.

Finally seeming to regain function of her body and heedless of their guards, Jemma dashed across the space between them, all-but collapsing in his arms. He, of course, was ready to catch her, and they leaned heavily on each other as Jemma buried her face between his neck and shoulder. He was warm and solid and _Fitz_ in her arms, and she couldn’t help the way she clung to him, too afraid to let go lest he disappear again, too afraid that this was another dream she’d wake up from to find herself alone.

“You’re here,” she murmured against the skin of his neck, running one hand up until she could cup the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“Yeah,” he whispered into the fabric of her shirt, “they just told me this morning I was being reassigned. Had no idea it’d be with you.” He attempted to lean back a bit, most likely to catch her eye, but Jemma wasn’t ready to let go yet, clinging to him more tightly.

“ _No_ ,” she mumbled, burrowing further into him and pressing her nose against his skin until _Fitz_ filled all of her senses.

“Jemma,” he said softly, and a little shudder went through her at hearing him speaking her name for the first time in _ages_. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” They both knew he couldn’t make promises like that, but _god_ did she believe him in that moment, trusted the sincerity coating his words.

Leaning back a tiny bit until they were nose-to-nose and the breath from his parted lips brushed against her face, Jemma answered quietly, “Okay.”

“You alright?” he asked worriedly, his gaze dropping to take in as much of her as he could in their current position.

“Yeah,” she assured him, a little smile tugging at her lips as she added, “I’m alright now.” Her smile faded quickly, however, as she asked, “You?”

Fitz inhaled a shaky breath, and Jemma hated to think of him stuck in isolation for the past few weeks, thinking over everything that had happened and allowed the time to find some way to blame it on himself. “I’m alright now, too,” he answered, nodding slightly.

She would’ve been liable to spend the next few hours just staring into his eyes and soaking up his warmth if a sudden _bang_ hadn’t startled them enough to automatically separate. Whirling around, Jemma found one of the guards, who had apparently decided to break up their reunion by banging a fist on the metal wall. Once he had their attention, he nodded sharply toward the lab bench.

Not wanting to let this opportunity go to waste, however, Jemma had a demand of her own. “We work better without an _audience_ ,” she said pointedly. When no one moved a muscle, she rolled her eyes and reminded them sharply, “And where exactly are we supposed to go if you’re guarding all of the exits? _Honestly_.”

By some stroke of luck, after a few shared glances, the guards actually cleared out and left them alone in the little lab (but the deafening sound of locks clanging into place was a clear message). Breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in what felt like years, Jemma turned back to Fitz.

All of a sudden, she felt as though her heart had gotten caught in her throat, and she had to blink back tears at the realization that he was right there in front of her, real and tangible and close enough to _touch_.

“I know there’s a lot of stuff we never got the chance to talk about,” Fitz started, heaving a long sigh and giving her a humorless smile.

“And we’ll get to it, because we need to,” Jemma assured him, framing his face between her hands and stroking her thumbs over his stubbled cheeks. “But right now…if it’s alright with you…I think I’d really like to take advantage of this moment to kiss you.”

After all, she’d dreamed of it enough times in the past few weeks, and she wasn’t about to let this moment slip by, not while they were together and alone and not in mortal peril. Not while she’d only had the memory of their all-too-brief last kiss the morning of their mission to find Director Mace (what felt like a lifetime ago now) to hold onto.

Fitz’s eyebrows darted up in clear surprise, his lips parting as he sucked in an audible breath. “You… _really_?”

Jemma smiled softly, nodding in lieu of a verbal response, and went up onto the tips of her toes to _finally_ press her lips against Fitz’s. She intended to keep it sweet, soft, a reminder of how very much she loved him, a reminder that nothing could cause that love to dim, let alone disappear.

However, the moment he began to hesitantly kiss her back, his fingers curling around her waist, Jemma lost herself in it, shifting her hands to cup the back of his head and hold him there as her lips parted against his. She let out a muffled little moan against his mouth, having missed him so _much_ it hurt, and Fitz’s answering groan had a shudder traveling down her spine.

In the next moment, though, he abruptly broke away from the kiss, visibly shaking as he turned and placed his hands flat on the lab bench. He bent at the waist, taking deep, trembling breaths and bowing his head.

Breathing with a bit of difficulty and taking a moment to regain her bearings, Jemma asked in concern, “Fitz?” She stepped closer until she stood at his side, though she was unsuccessful in her attempts to catch his eye.

“I tried to _kill_ you,” he reminded her, his voice tight with barely restrained anger with himself. “Jemma, I _shot_ you, I put a…a gun to your _head_ , and…” He trailed off, seemingly unable to go on any longer without breaking.

“Fitz,” Jemma sighed, reaching out to place a hand over one of his. Though she felt his fingers twitch beneath hers, he thankfully didn’t try to pull his hand away. “That wasn’t you. Didn’t you listen to what Daisy said? You have to understand, nothing in the Framework that happened was your choice, they weren’t decisions you would have made of your own free will, and my trust in you has never wavered. I know you would never hurt me, Fitz, not when _you’re_ the one in control.”

He inhaled a shaky breath, shaking his head absently, as though he couldn’t allow himself to believe her words no matter how much he wanted to. “How can you… You saw what I was, what I did, _everything_ … How can you even look at me and not see… _that_?”

A little smile played on Jemma’s lips, and she lifted her hand to curve along Fitz’s cheek, gently turning his head until their eyes met and she could see the pained desperation in his. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”

She paused there for a moment, her smiling growing as she blinked back tears, overwhelmed by the love she had for this man. Fitz watched her, eyebrows drawn up in wary disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite trust there to be anything she could say that would convince him he hadn’t ruined what they had.

“When I look at you,” she began softly, “I see that shy, sweet, _brilliant_ boy I met back at the Academy, the one that understood me as no one ever had before and so quickly became my best friend in the world. I see the man that boy grew into, the one who stood by my side for over a decade and followed me blindly into the field simply because he trusted me. I see the man I’ve put through so _much_ , who still stands stubbornly by my side, through all of the ups and downs, who dives through holes in the universe just for _me_. I see the man I _love_ , the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, the man I can see no future without, and the man I’d want to be the father of my children someday.”

Fitz exhaled shakily, his eyes wide as his mouth fell open in a gape. For a long moment, he appeared to be stunned into silence by her admission, but Jemma was content to give him time to soak it in, to accept the truth and conviction in her words. She _knew_ what she wanted, and it was him, them, together for as long as they both lived. Now, _he_ needed to know that it was what she wanted.

“You really… You think about that?” he finally managed to ask a few moments later, seeming truly awed by the information.

Jemma laughed softly, ducking her head a bit as she remembered her dream of their perfect future, a quiet little cottage and their beautiful baby. “More than you could imagine.”

Fitz didn’t seem to know what to say to that, his bottom lip trembling and his eyes filled with enough emotion to have her heart skipping a beat. How could this wonderful man think she wanted anything but a future with him? How could he possibly think that she blamed him for the things he’d had no control over, that she would no longer love him for acts committed against his will?

“I’ve wanted to tell you that for _weeks_ ,” she admitted with an indulgent little smile, reaching up to absently card her fingers through his curls, unable to go any longer without touching him. “Ever since you said that our future together was dead. It’s been _killing_ me that I couldn’t…” Seeing the strange look on his face, she leaned back a bit, dropping her hand as she asked in concern, “What?”

“I never… I said that to…” He took a deep breath, his eyelids dropping to hide his eyes from her curious gaze. “You heard it, didn’t you? My conversation with…”

“With AIDA? Yes,” Jemma answered softly, “I wanted…well, initially, I wanted to make sure you were okay, to make sure you were…”

“Me?” Fitz finished, one side of his mouth quirking up in a dry smile.

“No.” She shook her head, cutting off that line of thinking before he could get lost in the guilt he didn’t deserve. “I _knew_ you were you, but…I was afraid, Fitz. I was afraid that…that you were confused, that you believed it was real, and she…”

Fitz’s eyes reopened then, and he found her hands with his, lacing their fingers together in a way she’d missed dearly (she’d barely been able to find sleep since their forced separation, unused to doing so without his palm pressed to hers, the calloused skin of his thumb stroking the back of her hand and lulling her to sleep).

“Jemma,” he murmured, meeting her gaze unblinkingly to make sure she was listening to what he was saying, “I have _never_ loved anyone the way I…” He took a deep breath, blinking a couple of times to keep the tears she could see shining in his eyes at bay. “What I feel for you is…” He trailed off yet again, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. “You know, I’m pretty sure that there aren’t words for how much I love you, Jemma. I’ve loved you for…for almost half my life, and it’s a part of me, of who I am. Nothing can change that, and certainly not fabricated feelings for someone as manipulative and…”

“Evil?” Jemma offered half-jokingly, the word watery with the tears she hadn’t been able to hold back at his impromptu speech.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Fitz’s amused smirk faded into something softer as he squeezed her hands in his. “So, you understand that you never had anything to worry about, right? And you never will? Because there is _no one_ that I could ever love more than I love you; you are _everything_ to me, Jemma.”

The deliberate emphasis on the word ‘everything’ was clear, and Jemma had to close her eyes briefly and take a breath as she remembered the feel of the gun pressed against her head and refusing to speak the words that would’ve burnt her tongue like acid. “I understand,” she promised softly.

“I know we’ve got a lot to work through, but…” He glanced at the lab around them, at the thick metal doors keeping them captive, and the square little window that looked out into space. “But, I think we’ve got the time to figure it all out. If you want to, that is.”

“Of _course_ I do,” Jemma said instantly, using her grip on his hands to tug him closer until they were chest-to-chest and she could wrap her arms around his neck to hold him there. “I refuse to allow anything to come between us, Fitz. Trapped in a ridiculous space prison or living in a cottage in Perthshire, I’m with you, one hundred percent. We _will_ fix this, together, because that’s what we always do.”

Fitz smiled then, and it reached his eyes and lit them up for the first time in so _long_ , and it made Jemma’s own smile grow in response. “Together,” he repeated.

Jemma may have been sick and tired of space, and of her days stuck in a lab forced to work for their mysterious kidnappers, but the idea that _this_ could be what the rest of her life looked like if they didn’t somehow manage to get out of there wasn’t actually the worst thing imaginable –

Not as long as she had Fitz by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	18. Post 4x22 Speculation[ish]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This one toes the line between T and a hard T, and is slightly nsfw.
> 
> Written as a follow-up to ch 17, but can be read alone; for the prompt: "write more cute fitzsimmons sexy times!!".

Darting anxious glances down either end of the hall, Jemma shifted her feet and knocked hurriedly once more on the metal door of Fitz’s quarters. Sure, they’d finally been allowed enough autonomy to move freely about the space station (because where were they supposed to go with guards posted at every possible exit, and the empty void of space waiting for them beyond the walls?), but she didn’t think their captors would exactly approve of her paying Fitz a secretive, late night visit.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Fitz’s adorably confused face and sleep-rumbled curls. He blinked a couple of times at the sight of her, even reaching up to rub at his tired eyes. “ _Jemma_?” Bewildered, he automatically stepped back to allow her entrance, watching as she went to perch on the edge of his bed. “What are you…”

“I saw an opportunity, and I took it,” Jemma explained, curling up in one corner of the bed built into the wall, patting the mattress to indicate that he should join her.

Fitz shot a worried glance out into the hallway, but ultimately closed the door and climbed onto the bed, settling in the opposite corner. “An opportunity for _what_?”

“They trust us enough to allow us to move freely about the station, so I figured I’d take advantage of that trust to give us time to come up with a plan.” She arched her eyebrows, leaning in closer and lowering her voice, even though she knew logically that there was no one around to overhear. “Fitz, we need to get out of here, and the first step to accomplishing that is finding the others.”

He still seemed nervous, worriedly eyeing the door every few minutes. “I don’t know, Jemma…what if they catch you in here? The last thing I want is for you to get caught up in some kind of trouble because of me.”

Chewing her lip anxiously and mentally going over everything they’d have to overcome in order to rescue their team and get back to earth, Jemma absently brushed off his worries. “We’ll just say we were having sex or something. It’ll be fine, Fitz.”

When Fitz let out a couple of surprised coughs, Jemma frowned, shaking away her distraction to focus on his bright red cheeks and wide eyes.

“Fitz, what…” However, she trailed off, giving an exasperated roll of her eyes as she went back over her previous words and connected the dots. “Ugh _Fitz_!” She gave him a dry look as she reminded him, “You do remember that we’ve had sex more times than I can count, right? That you know my body better than _I_ likely do? There’s absolutely no reason to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not…” Fitz scrubbed a hand over his face, giving a muffled groan into his palm before he dropped his hand to his lap. “I’m not embarrassed, okay? You just…you caught me off guard, that’s all. Let’s just…figure out that plan, alright?”

Jemma studied him for a moment longer, unable to help the tiny surge of disappointment she felt at him wanting to so quickly change the subject (after all, now that they were talking about it, it was all she could seem to think about), but she respected his desire to avoid talk of their sex life. It _had_ only been just a few weeks since they’d agreed to take it slow, to start afresh while working through and healing from everything that had happened during the LMD crisis, then the Framework and its fallout.

“Alright…” She took another, brief moment to force herself to focus back on getting the hell out of there, rather than getting Fitz out of his clothes. “Either they’re on this station as well, or they’re being held somewhere else, but regardless of which it is, the information’s got to be somewhere around here.”

Fitz leaned back against the wall, arching his eyebrows and nodding in agreement. “So, the first step would be finding out where they _keep_ said information.”

“Exactly.” Scooting a bit closer, until her knees bumped against his, Jemma went on, “And here’s how I suggest we go about doing that…”

They spent the rest of the night working out the finer details of the first step of their plan, and Jemma couldn’t help but ruminate on how _nice_ it was to be on the same page as Fitz once more, working together and shooting ideas back and forth, finishing each other sentences until the plan was fully formed. It felt as though they’d been on different wavelengths for so _long_ , and they were finally getting back to where they should’ve been all along.

And when she opened her eyes the next morning to find her cheek pressed to Fitz’s chest, his arm slung across her back and their legs tangled together, she realized that last night had gotten them back on the same page in more ways than one.

-

After successfully hiding Jemma’s presence in Fitz’s room that first night, the two mutually (and wordlessly) decided to make it a regular thing; Jemma left her room each night after “curfew”, sneaking down the halls to join Fitz for plotting, or just to spend the night talking about anything and everything as they laid in each other’s arms.

They were taking slow, careful steps forward in their plan, getting closer and closer every day to finding their friends, to returning to earth and home, but that seemed to be the _only_ progress they were making.

Sure, they’d managed to discuss almost everything that had happened between them during the LMD takeover of the Playground and during their time in the Framework, including its implications. Jemma was completely grateful that he was being so open and honest with her, baring his thoughts and emotions to her, and his complete trust in her was at times overwhelming.

But, truthfully, she still _missed_ him.

Even with him right there, close enough to touch, Jemma didn’t feel he was close _enough_. In fact, as her body was so fond of reminding her, he wouldn’t be close enough until there was nothing left between them, until she could feel his skin against hers as their bodies melded into one.

Jemma wanted to give Fitz all the time and distance he needed, but…it also couldn’t hurt to test the waters, could it? While they were together, while they had the time, while the world wasn’t ending and there was nothing pressing that needed their attention?

“Goodnight, Jemma,” Fitz murmured, dropping a loving kiss on her forehead.

“Goodnight, Fitz,” she replied, but instead of settling in against his chest and giving into the tiredness that always seemed to ache deep in her bones these days, Jemma gave into a different ache. She caught his face between her palms, dragging him back down to her until their lips met in the middle.

Fitz gave a startled moan against her mouth, one of his hands clumsily gripping at her waist, as though he needed something to hold onto or he’d be swept away by the passion between them.

Jemma smiled smugly into the kiss, sliding one of her hands up to grip the back of his head, burying her fingers in his curls. As she shifted to lie more fully on top of him, Fitz’s free hand came to rest on her lower back, the heat of his skin burning her even through the fabric of her shirt.

Her lips parted over his, her tongue darting out to tease the seam of his lips until they opened for her and she could feel the vibration of his moan all the way down to her toes. The shudder he gave at her answering moan had her tugging his bottom lip between both of hers, nipping at it in the way she knew drove him crazy.

Fitz’s hands pressed against her back, heated fingertips trailing from the flare of her waist up to her shoulders and back down again. On his next pass, he dipped beneath the hem of her shirt, his calloused fingers dragging over the smooth skin of her back.

More than a little breathless, Jemma broke away from the kiss, but she wasn’t idle for long. She pressed kisses over his cheek, his jaw and down the length of his neck, tasting his stubbled skin against her lips. He released a low groan, one hand coming up to allow his fingers to tangle in her hair as she dragged her teeth lightly over his Adam’s apple.

Her fingers had just begun toying with the waist of his trousers when they were suddenly stalled by Fitz’s hand gripping them tightly. “Wait,” he gasped out, turning his head away from her wandering lips. “We should just… We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and we need some sleep, okay?”

Jemma’s jaw fell open in a confused, dismayed gape, but when Fitz glanced at her to gauge her silence, she attempted to school her injured expression into something more neutral. “Alright,” she agreed, forcing far more cheer into her tone than the situation strictly called for.

“Jemma…”

“Goodnight, Fitz,” she repeated pointedly, hurrying to burrow her face in his chest so that she could hide the tears she was trying incredibly hard not to shed.

He was quiet for some time, and Jemma thought he must’ve already fallen asleep. But, then, into the darkness of the room, he sighed, “I’m sorry, Jemma.”

Realizing that he must’ve thought _she_ was already asleep, Jemma couldn’t quite hold back the tears that fell silently down her face.

-

Finally, after weeks of preparation, it was the following morning that they would put their plan into action, the plan that _everything_ was riding on. Jemma was confident in them, in their ability to solve anything when they put their heads together, and she was reasonably certain that things would go well tomorrow. But if they didn’t – and even if they _did_ – there was something she wanted first, something she’d been too afraid to ask for, until now, when their time may be close to running out.

“Fitz?”

“Yeah?”

Jemma took a couple of deep breaths, curling her fingers a bit more tightly around the fabric of Fitz’s shirt. “If things don’t go right tomorrow, we’ll more than likely be separated again. We might never…might never even _see_ each other again, and –”

“Hey, whoa, slow down,” Fitz cut in, sliding his palm to settle along her jaw and gently lifting her head so their gazes met as best they could through the darkness. “Jemma, you can’t think like that, okay? We _will_ see each other again, we’ll find a way.”

His words had a little smile tugging at her lips, a bit of her worry about tomorrow alleviated, but there was something more she still had to ask of him. “Fitz…if you want to – that is, if you’re _ready_ …I…well, I’d like to make love tonight.”

“You’d… _oh_.” Fitz raised his eyebrows, swallowing audibly, and it wasn’t _quite_ the reaction she’d been hoping for, but she’d prepared for the unintentional rejection this time.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready,” she hastened to repeat, catching one of Fitz’s hands in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I just thought I’d…I’d put it out there, be honest about what I wanted.” She inhaled deeply once more, and asked slowly, “What do you want?”

“I…” Fitz released a heavy breath, sagging back further into his pillow and lifting his gaze to stare up at the ceiling. “Of course I… But the thing is…” He shook his head, seeming frustrated with himself. “The thing is, I’ve…been so _afraid_ of pushing you, afraid that you think…I dunno, that you’ve got something to prove or something, that it’s what you think _I_ want, and…” His stumbled sentence hung there, his brow furrowing as he registered Jemma’s disbelieving giggles. “What?”

“ _Fitz_.” She shook her head, pressing her lips together to stem the laughter as she reached up to stroke her fingertips over his scratchy cheeks. “Do you have any idea… I want you more than _anything_ , more than getting off of this ridiculous space station, more than finding our team, more than…well, I’d say more than air, but that would be rather counter-productive, what with needing oxygen to survive and all.”

“Jemma –”

But she wasn’t done yet, and ignored Fitz’s attempt to interrupt as she went on, “You have no idea how often I dream of us together, how often thoughts of our… _previous encounters_ plague me day and night. I couldn’t…I couldn’t _bear_ the thought of that all-too brief…well,  _quickie_ , really, after you were nearly blown to bits being the last time we were together. Can you?”

“Well…no, but…” Fitz sighed heavily, absently tracing the tip of his index finger down the length of her arm. “I just want you to be sure, because…because I don’t ever want to be the reason you do something you’re not entirely sure you want to do.”

“You _do_ remember how much I enjoy having sex with you, right?” When Fitz simply made a face at her, Jemma finally realized that there might be more to this than she’d previously thought – she couldn’t _believe_ she hadn’t thought of it before now. “Wait, is this… Does this have something to do with the fact that _you’ve_ experienced things you didn’t want to do?”

Fitz winced, quickly dropping his gaze to intently study the pattern he was drawing on her shoulder. “I…I don’t want you to _ever_ feel like that, okay? Especially not because of me. It’d…it would _destroy_ me.”

“Hey,” Jemma murmured soothingly, caressing his cheek until he hesitantly lifted his eyes to meet hers once more. “You will _never_ make me feel like that, okay? That situation was…it was entirely different from us; we’ve chosen to be here, together, however that looks. We trust and care about each other, and we’ve _chosen_ to do so. Do you trust me to tell you if I’m ever uncomfortable with something?”

Fitz gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then he nodded.

“Good.” Jemma scuffed her thumb over his skin, smiling warmly as she took in the open, trusting affection in his eyes. “Now, if you’re at all unsure about this, if you’re still struggling with your experiences in the Framework, then I promise you I’m more than alright with waiting, Fitz. Just say the word, and I’ll be happy to simply hold you all night long.”

“No,” Fitz insisted, shaking his head quickly. “No, I want…” He paused, giving a frustrated little sigh as he tried to sort his feelings into words. “I…I just wanna replace my… _memories_ – the ones I _hate_ that I have, the ones I wish would just disappear ‘cause I never asked for them…I wanna replace them with you. I mean, the times when they refuse to leave me alone, I try to think about you and…and _us_ instead, and it helps, but…”

“Fitz,” she started quietly, heatedly, cupping his face between her hands and bringing him closer until his forehead rested against hers, “I am _more_ than happy to replace any negative memories you have. I’m certainly up to the task, and you know me – I won’t give up till I’ve completed it, until you only remember the way I feel beneath you, above you, until I’m all you can think of, all you can taste, all you can feel.”

“ _Jemma_ …” His rough whisper had a shudder travelling down her spine, and in the next moment, Jemma found herself being pressed back into the mattress with Fitz hovering above her, all exploratory hands and demanding lips.

 _Finally_ , she’d gotten through to him, and Jemma couldn’t have been happier with the results.

-

When Jemma woke the next morning, bare skin pressed flush to Fitz’s and a lazily content smile on her lips, it was to the thought that it had been _far_ too long. She knew that life (and the world at large) tended to get in the way of their romantic endeavors, but if she had anything to say about it, they would _never_ go so long without giving into their baser urges again.

“’Morning,” Fitz greeted, his voice rough and scratchy in the way it only got in the mornings. He drew his fingertips up the length of her spine, between her shoulder blades, until he could tangle his fingers in her hair.

“Good morning,” Jemma sighed happily, dropping a kiss over his heart before folding her arms on his chest and resting her chin on them. For a moment, they gazed at each other with ridiculously goofy grins on their faces, but then her smile melted into a frown as she reminded him, “We’ve got work to do.”

“I know,” he assured her solemnly.

“Much as I’d love to spend all day in bed with you,” she added, smiling ruefully.

Fitz gently tugged her down to place a kiss on her forehead. “When we get home,” he promised, “we’ll spend a whole _week_ in bed, making up for all the time we’ve lost.”

A wide smile began stretching across Jemma’s face as she asked playfully, “And will there be clothes involved?”

“Not a stitch.”

“Sounds heavenly.” She pecked his lips once before climbing out of bed to find her discarded clothes. “We better get to it then. The sooner we get the hell out of this nightmare, the sooner that week can begin.”

She heard his footsteps on the cool metal floor, and closed her eyes in contentment as he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms low around her stomach. “Just one more moment…”

“Oh, alright.” She dropped her head back against his shoulder, idly stroking the smooth skin at the back of his hands with her fingertips as they simply held each other. After a few minutes, though, she parted regretfully from him, and they silently began to dress.

It almost reminded her of a hotel room in Bucharest, just after they’d slept together for the first time, and they’d had the most difficult time getting dressed, constantly stopping to share shy smiles and more than their fair share of kisses.

Fitz’s cell-like quarters on a space station where they were being held against their will weren’t quite the luxurious suite where they’d begun to learn each other’s bodies, but to Jemma, the differences didn’t matter. She still had to pause every few moments to beam at Fitz, leaning in to find his lips with hers, smoothing her hands over the bare skin of his chest and stomach. He didn’t seem to mind, and even caught her lips with his own quite a few times, fingers ghosting over her naked back and gripping at her hips.

Somehow, they managed to finish dressing, and before they left his quarters and entered into the dangerous unknown, Jemma stepped up to Fitz and looped her arms around his neck. “Whatever happens…know that I love you, Fitz, and nothing can take that from us.”

Fitz used his grip around her waist to tug her closer, until there was no space between them and he could rest his forehead against hers. “I love you too, Jemma, whatever happens. Always.”

“Always,” Jemma agreed, pressing her lips against his for one last kiss. Then, she took his hand in hers and laced their fingers as they headed for the door, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	19. FS + Domestic Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Fitzsimmons domestic bliss (bonus points for fitzsimmons babies)!"

It had been nearly nine months since Fitz and Jemma had left SHIELD and its dangers behind them, beginning married life together in their little cottage in Perthshire, and things had never been better. Finally, Jemma could fall asleep at night and wake up in the morning and know that she wasn’t going to lose Fitz to an ancient Inhuman with designs on swaying half the world to its will, or to a twisted robot and its corrupt computer world.

Now, she could wake up, wrapped up in Fitz’s embrace, and just lay there and watch him sleep, content in the knowledge that nothing was going to tear them apart ever again.

However, that night, as Jemma lay staring up at the ceiling of their bedroom through the dark, a plaguing thought was keeping her from finding sleep in Fitz’s arms. In fact, she was far from content as she shifted around, attempting to get comfortable and failing – she knew instinctively that she wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep until she voiced her concerns to Fitz.

As such, she took a deep breath and whispered into the darkness, “Fitz? Are you awake?”

It was a moment before his reply came. “Yeah, m’up.” He sounded a bit out of it, but awake enough for her to continue with the pressing discussion she felt couldn’t wait until morning.

“Do you…I mean, I know we’ve talked about it a bit, but never really given it a _timeline_ , and…” She trailed off, frustrated with her inability to just get the words out there.

“What?” Fitz was understandably confused by her jumbled statement. “What’re you talking about?”

Jemma inhaled deeply once more, closed her eyes, and just blurted it out, “I think we should try to have a baby.” When Fitz said nothing, only sucked in a sharp breath, she hastened to add, “If you’re not ready, then we’ll just…forget I said anything and…table the discussion for now.”

“No, I just…” Fitz made a frustrated sound, then tried again, “Just…where is this coming from? I mean, we haven’t talked about kids since before we got married, and even then we said it was…well, far in the future.”

“I know, I know, but…” Jemma shrugged helplessly, attempting to explain, “I keep seeing these women with their little baby bellies, or these happy couples with their kids and…there’s this strange ache I get in my chest, and I…well, I think I want that, for us. I want…” What she _really_ wanted was for those dreams she kept having, where Fitz was playing in their big open yard with curly-haired kids, to be a reality, but she wasn’t sure she could give voice to that.

“And you think we’re ready for it?” he asked curiously, still seeming a bit surprised.

Jemma gave another shrug, tapping her fingers against his rib cage and absently counting his ribs as she did so. “I don’t know…is anyone ever _really_ ready for their first child?”

“I guess not,” Fitz conceded, “But most people haven’t spent the last five years of their lives accumulating _more_ than a lifetime’s worth of trauma. Do you really think we’ve both healed enough to bring a baby into all of that?”

She mulled his question over for a long moment, then started slowly, “Well, we’ve spent the past year working to move on from the Framework, not to mention our interplanetary kidnapping, and all of our neighbors seem to think we’re normal, every-day people who haven’t spent significant time with aliens or superheroes. I’d say that’s a good sign, wouldn’t you?”

“Always a good sign, yes,” Fitz agreed with a quiet chuckle. “And you’re sure it’s what you want?”

“I’ve given quite a bit of thought to it, yes.” Jemma sat up slightly, resting her weight on her elbow so that she could better meet Fitz’s eyes. “But you have to want it too, Fitz, and like I said, if you’re not ready, we’ll table this discussion until you are.”

Fitz studied her for a moment, pursing his lips as he mulled it over, but not much more time passed before his mouth quirked up at the corners. “Yeah, I’m ready,” he told her, nodding slightly.

Jemma couldn’t help the grin that split her face as she leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Then it’s settled.” She pulled back to meet his gaze once more, and suggested, “We can just try for a bit, see what happens; if nothing does, then it wasn’t meant to be, and if something does…”

“Then we’ll be happy, because it’ll mean there’s a little baby growing, right here.” He laid his palm over her flat stomach, stroking his thumb idly over the fabric of her shirt.

Beaming at the very idea, Jemma informed Fitz, “I’ll make an appointment to have my IUD taken out tomorrow, then.”

-

It was just a little over a month later that Jemma began to grow suspicious of her missing period and frequent nausea. She couldn’t imagine that she was _already_ pregnant, but the signs were there, so she took a handful of home pregnancy tests, just in case.

But when they were all lined up on the bathroom counter, the only thing Jemma could think was a dazed, “Well, that was fast.”

Then, it seemed to hit her all at once – she was carrying their _child_ (or rather, the grouping of cells that would _become_ a child) right there inside of her. She and Fitz had created another human being from the love that they shared.

Covering her ridiculously giddy smile with her hand, Jemma bounced excitedly on her toes, just barely remembering to grab one of the tests before hurrying out of the bathroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, where Fitz was making eggs and toast for breakfast.

“Fitz!” she cried, bare feet slapping against the hardwood floors, “ _Fitz_!”

“What? What is it?” Fitz turned away from the stove, taking a couple of concerned steps in her direction, but he was thrown back a bit when Jemma all-but jumped into his arms. “ _Whoa_! Careful, Jemma!”

Jemma took his face between her hands, tugging him down so that she could plant a firm kiss on his lips. When he pulled back, visibly bewildered, she grinned and finally waved the test in his line of vision. “Guess who’s been fertilized!”

Fitz grasped her wrist to get her hand to stop flailing about, and he gaped blankly at the positive test for a moment, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re pregnant?!”

She nodded rapidly, her grin somehow seeming to grow as she watched Fitz’s eyes light up. “I’m pregnant!” she confirmed. Then, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, she asked, “Wanna celebrate?”

Quickly, Fitz reached behind him to turn off the burner he’d been using to cook the eggs, then took her hand in his, leading a giggling Jemma back upstairs to the bedroom.

-

“So?” Jemma prompted some months later, idly rubbing a loving hand over her little baby bump and leaning her head back against the headrest as she watched Fitz drive. “What do you think?”

Fitz pursed his lips thoughtfully, glancing briefly down at her stomach. “Dunno. I mean, I’d be happy with either. All I really care about is that they’re healthy.”

“Ugh _Fitz_ , that’s a cop-out!” She gave his shoulder a tiny shove, taking care not to affect his control of the steering wheel. “Come on, this is the last chance; do you want a boy or a girl?”

“What does it matter? What I say isn’t going to change what they actually are, y’know.” He narrowed his eyes, throwing another glance at her. “Is this because you want another thing to laugh at me for being wrong about for the rest of our lives? Because I’m pretty sure you’ll still be giggling ‘bout that _one_ question I got wrong on our chemistry final when we’re eighty.”

“Of course not!” Jemma cried, even though she had to admit he was probably right about the chemistry final. “It’s just a simple curiosity.”

Fitz pulled the car into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, choosing a parking space and shutting the car off before making the mistake of glancing at Jemma’s pleading pout. “Oh for the love of… _fine_ , I want a girl, are you happy?”

“Really?” Jemma couldn’t exactly put a finger on why she was so surprised – it wasn’t as if she’d expected his answer either way. “Why?”

Fitz shrugged expressively. “I don’t know, just…well, I guess every time I picture our child, it’s a little girl who…y’know, looks just like you, only like…a miniature Jemma.” He shrugged again, rubbing at the back of his neck as he cheeks began to redden.

“Oh _Fitz_ …” She placed a hand on his knee, giving it a warm squeeze. “Wouldn’t you rather our child looked like _both_ of us?” She purposely left out the fact that she’d always had a picture in her head of a little boy with Fitz’s curls and blue eyes and shy smile.

“You don’t need _my_ face in there ruining things,” Fitz insisted, shaking his head.

“Well, I happen to think you have a _very_ nice face that would only _improve_ , rather than ruin a single thing.” He still looked doubtful, so she gave his knee another squeeze before opening the car door to get out. “You’ll see,” she promised, a smile playing on her lips.

It wasn’t much longer before Jemma was lying back on an exam table with her medical gown pulled up to reveal her stomach, and they both were watching the black and white images on the screen with bated breath, hands clasped tightly together.

Finally, after what seemed like _ages_ , the doctor informed them warmly, “Congratulations, you’re having a healthy baby girl.”

For a long moment, Jemma continued to stare at the image on the screen of their baby – their _daughter_ – attempting to take it all in, but when she felt something wet drip onto her fingers, she tore her gaze away to find Fitz, head bowed over their clasped hands with tears rolling down his face.

She lifted her free hand to cup his cheek, thumbing away a couple of his tears as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, and Jemma let out a watery laugh as they shared an awed smile.

-

A handful of weeks later, it was early one morning while they were still lounging in bed that Jemma opened a text on her phone that caused her to give a little laugh and shake her head. “Well, I suppose we should discuss names soon, shouldn’t we?”

Fitz glanced up from his tablet, peering at Jemma where she was curled up against his side (and using him to support her growing stomach, of course). “Oh?”

“Daisy’s all-but insisting it,” she admitted. “In fact, she’s made sure to text me every morning with information on a different successful woman named Daisy, telling me all about how naming our daughter after her will guarantee her a happy and successful life.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes fondly. “Sounds like Daisy alright.”

Jemma set her phone down, turning to face Fitz as he placed his tablet to the side. “So, Daisy’s on the table – anything you’d like to suggest?”

Fitz thought a moment, his brow furrowing, but after a moment, he shook his head. “Nothing’s coming to mind. What about you? You’ve been consuming that baby name book like it’s one of your gross biology textbooks; you must’ve come across something you like.”

Jemma made a face at him, but after a moment, she told him, “There is one name I’ve been considering.”

“Yeah? It’s not Peggy Carter, is it?” he teased, faking a wince as she elbowed him in the ribs.

“Be _quiet_ , you.” Jemma settled back against him, toying with the hem of his t-shirt as she said, “I’ve been thinking…how about we name her Evelyn? After your grandmother? I know she was incredibly important to you.” She smiled sadly as she added, “I only wish I’d gotten to meet her.”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose in surprise, a soft, wistful smile curving his lips. “Yeah, me too. She was always cheering me on, even though she didn’t know a thing ‘bout engineering or understand a word of what I was saying.” He wrapped his arm around Jemma’s shoulders, tugging her closer as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I think she’d have loved it if we named our daughter after her, but are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, smiling warmly. “After all, if it hadn’t been for her support and love – along with your mother’s, of course – you may not have decided to make a go of engineering, and then we likely wouldn’t have met. In fact, I think I owe her quite a bit, and naming my first born child after her will certainly go a ways in paying my debt.”

Chuckling, Fitz slid the palm of his free hand over her burgeoning stomach and said, “If you feel that strongly about it, then Evelyn it is.” He kissed her temple, and murmured against her skin, “You do know you have to tell Daisy now, don’t you?”

Jemma groaned, burying her face in his shoulder, but it was only a moment later that she perked back up. “I know exactly how to soften the blow.”

Later that day, after letting Daisy know they’d decided on a name and receiving a barrage of text messages begging to know the verdict, Jemma and Fitz finally sat down to a Skype call with her to share the news.

“ _So_?” Daisy prompted excitedly, leaning closer to the camera and holding up her clasped hands. “ _Are you calling to tell me that baby Fitzsimmons is going to be named after her favorite aunt-slash-superhero_?”

“Well…” Jemma shared a glance with Fitz before admitting, “We’ve actually decided to name her Evelyn, after Fitz’s grandmother.”

Daisy visibly deflated, leaning back in her seat as her shoulders slumped. “ _No, yeah, that makes sense. Congratulations to Grandma Fitz and all that._ ”

“Actually, she wasn’t…” Fitz trailed off at the look Jemma gave him, finishing under his breath, “my dad’s mum.”

Clearing her throat pointedly, Jemma explained, “We figured it wouldn’t be fair to the others if we named her after you _and_ named you as her godmother.” Unsuccessfully, she fought the smile tugging at her lips as she watched the shock play out across their friend’s face.

Daisy gasped, quickly leaning forward once more until her face nearly filled the whole screen. “ _Are you kidding me_?! _Of_ course _I’ll be her godmother_! _You have no idea what this means to me, seriously. Like, the fact that you’d trust me to raise her for you guys…_ ” She blinked a couple of times, clearly fighting tears.

“Yeah, well, maybe now you’ll think twice before making jokes at my expense,” Fitz grumbled good-naturedly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “I’m trusting you with my _progeny_.”

“ _Whatever you say, Fitzy_ ,” Daisy said, tears still standing in her hers as she smirked and playful saluted.

Fitz’s only response was a great, heaving sigh (though, of course, the smile on his face never faded).

-

A handful of months later, the nursery had been painted and decorated (they’d compromised, painting zoo animals with a pastel background on the walls, and a perfect rendition of the night sky on the ceiling), the baby shower had come and gone, and the go-bag had been sitting by their front door for nearly a month.

Evelyn was now just over a week late, and Jemma was _exhausted_. She’d carried this baby for _forty-one weeks_ – it was time for her to _come out already_.

“Any day now,” Fitz assured her, rubbing a comforting hand over her shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Jemma shot an exasperated look at Fitz. “ _We_? I don’t see you carrying a tiny human in your uterus that you’re _hopefully someday soon_ going to spend hours upon hours in labor working to push out of your vagina.”

Fitz made a face, but when Jemma’s eyes narrowed at his clear squeamishness, he cleared his throat and reminded her hesitantly, “Well, Jemma, honey, my love, the light of my life, er…that’s because I don’t quite have the proper… _bits_ for that. But you know I would trade places with you in a heartbeat if I could.”

“You say that now…” She trailed off meaningfully, though her pointedly arched eyebrows quickly furrowed as she winced in pain.

“Alright?” he asked in concern, placing a hand hastily at the small of her back as she leaned forward slightly to rub at it.

“Yes, it’s just…” She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath in through her nose and releasing it through her mouth. She repeated it a couple of times before she visibly sagged in relief, though it was a moment later that she brightened back up. “Fitz! That might be…I may be…I think I’m in labor!”

Fitz’s eyes popped open wide, and he practically leaped off of their couch. “Gotta get the keys, gotta get the bag, gotta get to the _hospital_ …”

“ _Fitz_!” Jemma shook her head in amusement, carefully turning around to peer over the back of the couch and watching as he rushed about, scrambling to grab the car keys and their go-bag. “It could be false labor; just sit down a moment and _breathe_ , alright? I need to see if the contractions continue, time them, and figure out how far apart they are.”

“Right, right, could be false, forgot about that.” Fitz sank back down onto the couch, releasing a huge, relieved sigh as though _he_ was the one who had just finished a contraction.

Rolling her eyes fondly, Jemma lifted his wrist to check the time, and began calmly counting.

The calm didn’t last long.

In fact, it lasted until about hour eight of her very _real_ labor, when the pain started really started kicking in, and from then on there was quite a bit of crying and swearing and clenching Fitz’s hand hard enough to bruise.

But finally, _finally_ , with one last push after twenty hours of exhaustive labor, Evelyn was brought into the world with a high wail, and she was the most beautiful thing either of her parents had ever laid eyes on.

Fitz had tears running unashamedly down his face as he cut the umbilical cord, and when a still-crying Evelyn was placed on her chest, Jemma had to sniffle back tears of her own as she cradled Evelyn’s little head and stroked her tiny fingers (and she didn’t even tease Fitz about the fact that Evelyn had his lips and eyes and cheeks and was still utterly perfect – _yet_ ).

Evelyn was worth the twenty hours of labor, the nine months of pregnancy, and all the _years_ Jemma and Fitz had spent struggling to stay together, fighting for this very future, for a safe and happy world that they could bring a child into.

She was worth _all of it_.

-

It had been almost two years since Evelyn had come into their lives, and though their days were now filled with temper tantrums and dirty nappies, neither one of them would dare complain. After spending so many years in SHIELD, risking their lives on a near daily basis, raising a child was practically a vacation.

Jemma enjoyed being a mother so much more than she could’ve ever imagined she would (and she enjoyed seeing Fitz as a father just as much as she’d thought she would, perhaps even more), but Evelyn was already walking and talking, and was more and more like a little person rather than a baby with each passing day.

And that night, with Evelyn wedged between them on the sofa, the credits of a children’s movie playing on the TV and Evelyn fast asleep, Jemma whispered, “Fitz? Are you awake?”

“Yeah, m’up.”

She was quiet for a moment, idly stroking her fingers through Evelyn’s soft curls, then she admitted in a rush, “I think we should try to have another one.”

Startled, Fitz turned to look at her over the top of Evelyn’s head. “You really think we’re ready for another one? Evie’s quite the handful on her own, y’know – imagine adding in another.”

“I know, I know, but…” She glanced down at Evelyn’s little thumb stuck in her mouth, eyelashes fluttering against her soft little cheeks. “But she’s growing up so fast and…and you know she’d be a wonderful older sister, and she’d _love_ someone to play with – and the sooner we have another, the more likely they are to be close, what with the smaller age gap –”

“ _Jemma_ ,” he cut into her rambling, chuckling fondly, “you don’t have to try so hard to convince me, alright? I love having babies with you – we’re quite good at it, if I do say so myself. If you think we’re ready to add in a newborn with our terrible-two-year, then I’m right there with you.”

A wide smile spread across her face, and she reached carefully across Evelyn to find Fitz’s hand with hers, lacing their fingers together. “Okay. Okay, good. And you know, we’ll just see what happens, like last time. Maybe we got lucky with Evelyn, maybe it won’t happen as quickly. It might even be years before I get pregnant again.”

-

Just barely over a month later, Fitz and Jemma were left staring blankly at the line of positive pregnancy tests laid out on their bathroom counter.

“I’m not sure if I’m extremely fertile, you’re extremely virile –”

“Or both,” Fitz cut in, nodding absently.

“Or both,” Jemma agreed, still in quiet disbelief.

“Maybe this is the cosmos making up for keeping us apart for so long.”

“Ugh _Fitz_! I’ve already told you, the cosmos doesn’t _want_ anything, nor can it control the fertilization of my eggs!”

“Oh come on, the cosmos dictating our lives isn’t the _craziest_ thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Jemma didn’t want to concede to that point, no matter how true it was, so instead she just rolled her eyes and tugged Fitz into a kiss. As she mentally prepared herself to do pregnancy all over again, she couldn’t help but smile against his lips, wrapping her arms more tightly around him.

She was so utterly grateful to have Fitz in her life, to have his heart, to be able to have his children – there wasn’t anyone else she could ever imagine taking the journey of parenthood with not once, but twice, after all.

“I love you,” Jemma sighed against his lips, her smile only growing as she tilted her head to press her forehead against his.

Fitz’s hand slid across her stomach, fingertips caressing just above where their second child was currently growing as he murmured, “I love you too, Jemma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	20. Academy Era + Falling in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Hey, if you are still taking prompts, can I request academy fitzsimmons falling in love and getting together?".

It was the final day of classes for his first year at the Academy, and having finished all of his finals and in possession of a plane ticket back to Glasgow for that evening, Fitz was rushing around his dorm room like a madman, shoving things haphazardly into his open suitcase. He’d _meant_ to be packed before then, but things had kept getting in the way, and…and _perhaps_ , there may have been a part of him that wasn’t ready to leave yet.

Logically, he knew that packed or not, he was going to have to leave the Academy campus eventually, and _of course_ he was excited to see his mum again, but…

“This is why I left you all of those notes, reminding you to pack, for _weeks_ ,” Jemma pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowly avoiding the wrinkled-up t-shirt he’d tossed at the suitcase on the bed beside her. “ _Honestly_ , Fitz.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’d have packed before now if you hadn’t kept me busy twenty-four-seven with your ridiculous study sessions,” Fitz shot back, eyeing the pile of clothes in the top drawer of his dresser, then shrugging and scooping it all up into his arms to carry it over to his bed.

Jemma actually _cringed_ as she watched him dump the heap of unfolded clothes into the suitcase. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do some folding for you? I wouldn’t mind…”

“Oh c’mon Simmons, we both know you’re asking for entirely selfish reasons,” Fitz half-joked, planting his hands on his hips and arching an eyebrow at her. “In fact, I take a great amount of pleasure in the thought of you on a plane back home to Sheffield, twitching the entire way because you can’t stop thinking ‘bout my suitcase full of wrinkled laundry.”

“You are a cruel human being, Fitz,” Jemma sighed teasingly, reaching out to poke him pointedly in the ribs.

Fitz swatted her hand away, stepping back and out of her reach. “Just for that, I’m gonna let you in on a secret: my poor suitcase is bound to stay packed and full of said wrinkled laundry for at _least_ a month, perhaps longer.”

“ _Ugh_.” Jemma dropped back dramatically onto his mattress, covering her face with a hand. “You’re going to make me come to Glasgow and unpack it _for_ you, aren’t you?”

Fitz bit his lip, just barely managing to hold back the strange reply of, _whatever gives me a chance to see you_ – where had _that_ come from?

Shifting a bit uncomfortably as he tried to push that thought to the back of his mind, he replied half-heartedly, “Ah, don’t worry, I’ll unpack it; I’d hate for you to make the trip just to deal with my mismatched socks – or to go through my pants.” He affected a shudder that had Jemma giggling, kicking lightly at his leg, which was still far out of her reach. “I’ll even send you photographic proof.”

“Of what? Your pants? I don’t think we’re that close yet Fitz, but it’s the thought that counts.”

Feeling the tips of his ears begin to burn in embarrassment, Fitz attempted to cover for it by grabbing a handful of his rolled-up socks. “Oh yeah? You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“A bit – _ahhh_! _Fitz_!” As he began launching the socks at her, Jemma squirmed away, holding her hands up defensively as she shrieked at the attack. “Stop! Stop it! _Fitz_!”

It was only when he found himself out of ammunition that Fitz showed mercy, and collapsing back on his bed on the other side of his suitcase, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of Jemma, covered in socks and scowling at him. After a moment, her stern expression crumbled, and she began giggling right along with him.

However, just an hour later, neither of them was laughing anymore.

“So, uh…you’ve got my number?” Fitz asked again, just to be sure.

Jemma nodded, patting her messenger bag, where Fitz knew she kept a mostly-empty address book (one that only contained information on her relatives, professors and a handful of colleagues, and now Fitz). “And your address as well, so that –”

“So that we can have an old-fashioned pen pal experience, yeah, I know, I remember.” He made a big show of sighing in exasperation and rolling his eyes, as though writing Jemma a letter once or twice a week was a _chore_ or something, when it was far more likely that getting her letters in the mail would be the highlight of his whole miserable summer.

“Letters are much more personal than e-mails!” Jemma defended herself for the hundredth time. “No one _ever_ sends letters anymore, they all claim to never have the time to sit down for a few minutes and write out a handful of quick paragraphs, pop it in the post box, and _there_ , you’re done! Honestly, it’s a shame.”

Fitz held up his hands in an attempt to placate Jemma. “Okay, alright, yes, letter-writing is a dying art. But if we stand here talking about it all day, we’ll miss our flights.”

Jemma frowned, darting a glance at her watch, then looking over her shoulder toward her gate. “You’re right, of course.” She took a deep breath, offered him a weak smile, and unexpectedly surged forward to grasp him in a tight hug. “Call me as soon as possible, alright? I’m going to be bored within an hour of landing, and I’ll be in desperate need of someone to talk science with.”

Hesitantly, Fitz lifted his arms to hold her in return, placing a shaky hand against the small of her back, where he could feel the heat of her skin through her shirt. “Yeah, okay,” was all he could manage to say in response.

Jemma leaned back what felt like far too soon, grasping his shoulders and beaming at him, though her eyes looked strangely…bright. “This is silly, isn’t it? We’re going to talk all the time and write letters, and in just a couple of months, we’ll be back at the Academy.”

He wasn’t actually sure at all if the painful twisting his gut at the idea of letting Jemma go and watching her leave _was_ normal, if they were just being silly – it wasn’t as if he’d ever really had friends, let alone someone he was as close to as Jemma. “Probably,” he answered regardless, chuckling faintly.

She nodded, still smiling so widely that it seemed a bit…forced as she stepped back and Fitz immediately felt cold and empty. “Okay. Okay, I’m really going now, or I’ll miss my flight.” With another decisive nod, she picked up the handle of her suitcase and took another step away from him. “Talk to you soon, Fitz.”

“Soon,” Fitz agreed half-heartedly, smiling only because he didn’t want Jemma to think he was upset and stay even longer trying to cheer him back up and then _really_ miss her flight.

Jemma gave a little wave, then turned and headed in the direction of her designated gate, quickly disappearing into the crowds of foot traffic in the busy airport.

With a heavy sigh, Fitz sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs to wait until his own flight – at least he knew once he was back home, he could call Jemma and it’d be like they’d never left.

-

Over the next few weeks, Fitz and Jemma spent practically every moment of every day on the phone; they spent days discussing the latest science journals and published papers, they spent nights ironing out the details for the projects they planned to tackle upon their return to the Academy and bickering back and forth about Fitz’s so-called “ridiculous” names for them.

In fact, Fitz spent more time talking to Jemma than he did his _mother_ , who he shared a _house_ with.

Of course, his mum seemed mostly amused by the whole thing (and also embarrassingly proud of the fact that he’d found a friend with whom he had so much in common at the Academy), always asking teasingly how they had _anything_ to talk about in their letters when they already shared everything over the phone.

The only problem with her amusement at the whole situation, however, was when a couple of her friends came over one night to gossip and they all had such _knowing_ looks on their faces when the phone rang and Fitz rushed for it. He ignored their giggles and greeted excitedly, “Simmons?”

“ _Hi Fitz_!” Jemma replied brightly. “ _Oh, I cannot_ wait _to tell you…I had the most brilliant idea while I was out with my family tonight._ ”

“Don’t you think _all_ of your ideas are brilliant?” Fitz teased as he turned his back to the gaggle of smirking women and beat a hasty retreat to the living room.

“ _Well, can you_ blame _me_?” she shot back.

They fell into their natural rhythm of conversation, Fitz nodding along as she mapped out her idea and cutting in to add his own, but then he caught a thread of conversation from out in the kitchen – his mum had just said _‘Jemma’_.

Keeping on ear on Jemma’s excited rambling, Fitz turned the other to the kitchen curiously. His mum’s friend, Bonnie, was sighing exaggeratedly, “Oh, I remember those days.”

“They seem so long ago, don’t they?” Leslie (who always used to pinch his cheeks when he was young) said wistfully.

The _hell_? What were they even _talking_ about?

“Oh, but to be young and in love again,” Bonnie went on, accompanied by another dramatic sigh.

Fitz sucked in a sharp breath that caught in his throat, causing him to launch into an immediate coughing fit. _How could they… They thought he was…with_ Jemma _?!_

It was absurd, preposterous, the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard of. Him and _Jemma_?!

Just then, he registered the sound of Jemma calling his name repeatedly into his ear, the concern in her tone steadily growing. “ _Fitz? Fitz? Fitz!_ ”

Clearing his throat a couple of times, Fitz answered her croakily, “M’fine.”

Jemma breathed an audible sigh of relief. “ _Oh thank_ god _. Don’t you ever scare me like that again_!”

“I won’t, I’m sorry.” Noticing his mother and her friends peering worriedly through the doorway, Fitz quickly waved them off, then hurried upstairs so that he wouldn’t overhear any of their other crazy fantasies.

However, that night, when Fitz was all-but asleep, phone pressed to his ear with the sound of Jemma’s deep, even breaths lulling him to sleep, he was hit with the sudden and intense desire to have Jemma _there_ , with him. It was far from the first time he’d felt that way since they’d been forced to part for the summer, but it _was_ the first time he’d wished for her to be there for anything other than working on experiments together or having deep discussions over breakfast.

In that moment, when his thoughts were all a jumble from the haze of sleep, Fitz almost _ached_ to have Jemma there now, wrapped up in his arms with her cheek pressed to his chest, where he could feel her warm breath on his neck and her heart beating against his ribcage.

And his last conscious thought, before sleep finally pulled him under, was a startlingly clear, _holy shit, I’m in love with Jemma_.

-

After that, Fitz tried everything he could to _forget_ about his midnight revelation, to just go back to being Jemma’s friend and not the pathetic loser who was desperately in love with his best friend. But, try as he might, he only seemed to fall _deeper_ (or possibly, he only continued to discover how deep his feelings actually went – he wasn’t really up to overanalyzing the situation, thanks) – every single thing Jemma did made his heart swell until his chest hurt and his stomach twist up in knots that were somehow both pleasant and nauseating.

Being in love _sucked_.

After getting off of the phone with Jemma late one night, and his heart gave that painful twinge it always did now when they hung up, Fitz decided that enough was enough – if bottling it up wasn’t doing a damn thing, then perhaps getting it all out there would free him from these _feelings_.

So, a desperate whim, Fitz climbed out of bed and, half-delirious with exhaustion and lovesickness, he found a fresh piece of paper and a pen and began pouring his heart out in scribbled, messy handwriting.

_Dear Jemma,_

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve tried, I really have, but it just won’t go away. I want things to go back to normal, ~~I want to turn back the clock and~~  well, we both know time travel is impossible, but I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that in the first place, I’m kind of a mess right now. But, it’s true, if it were possible, I’d give anything to go back in time and stop this from ever happening._

_Jemma, ~~I’m in~~ ~~I think I~~ I love you, okay? Not just like friends, even though I do, I love being your friend! But all of sudden I want to be around you all the time and – well, that’s not much different from how we usually are, is it? But it is, because now there’s this ache in my chest and I know it’s physically impossible and you’re probably having a good laugh at my expense saying ‘silly Fitz’ right about now, but it feels like my heart is honestly breaking every moment I’m not with you. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I probably sound like some dumb romance movie, but…I don’t know._

_I’m sorry I’m rambling, I don’t really know what I’m feeling or how to explain it, and I’m likely doing a rubbish job. ~~All I know is that I love you so much I want to tear my own heart out of my chest and hand it right over to you so then maybe it’ll stop crying out for you so much~~._

_Oh Christ, I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry Jemma. I’m gonna try to forget all of this, and then things can go back to normal and we’ll go back to the Academy and spend all day in the lab fighting about the silliest things and cracking jokes in Professor Vaughn’s class until he catches wind of what we’re up to – which he won’t, of course._

_Don’t worry about any of it, okay? ‘Cause even if these stupid feelings won’t go away, I’ll still do my best to ignore them and just be your friend and you’ll never have to know. I promise, this doesn’t have to change anything._

_~~Please don’t let this change anything~~._

_Fitz_

When it was finished, and Fitz could set down his pen and clasp his trembling hands together, he released a deep breath and spent a long moment just gazing down at the letter. Then, slowly, he raised his eyes to stare at the framed picture on his desk of him and Jemma, making funny faces at the camera and clearly caught mid-laughter.

When the mere sight of Jemma’s face had a swell of love surging through him, making it difficult to breathe, Fitz knew that the dumb letter hadn’t worked at _all_ – he was as in love with Jemma as ever.

-

He spent a few days wallowing in the wake of the utter failure of the letter, hiding under the covers of his bed and grumbling to himself about how he was always mucking everything up. But, Fitz finally had to drag himself out of bed when his mother called up the stairs to let him know that he wasn’t going to be fed if he didn’t come downstairs for breakfast – and he was promptly betrayed by his growling stomach, just like his dumb heart.

Couldn’t he trust _any_ of his organs?

He hadn’t talked to Jemma since he’d written that stupid letter, too embarrassed and upset with himself to speak with her and know that while she was just having a chat with her friend, he was harboring a deep-seated, unrequited love for her. It just didn’t seem fair to her, after all.

However, even if _writing_ the letter hadn’t helped, Fitz thought grimly as he scowled at his desk, perhaps tearing up the damn thing would – yeah, it wouldn’t get rid of his love for Jemma, but at least he’d get some satisfaction out of it.

But, when he stepped up to his desk and expected to find the badly folded letter, creased from too much handling (and obsessing over), sitting right on top of the organized chaos where he’d left it…

 _It wasn’t there_.

Growing a bit frantic, Fitz began to tear apart his desk, all-but shoving books and stray pens to the floor as he searched every scrap of paper, hoping to find it was that damned letter. But, it wasn’t _there_.

Feeling his chest tighten to the point where he was struggling to catch a breath, he stumbled out of his bedroom and called, “Mum? Mum!”

“What? What is it?” She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, apron half-tied and a towel still in her hands, looking quite put out. However, when she saw his wide eyes and breathless gaping, concern furrowed her brow. “What’s the matter, Leo?”

“There, there was a…um…a letter on my, my desk and…”

“The one for Jemma?” his mother questioned, and when he nodded frantically, she smiled in relief and told him, “Oh, I posted that days ago for you, figuring you’d forget all about it and leave the poor thing hanging again.”

“You… Oh _god_.” Breathing rapidly, as though he’d just run a marathon, Fitz bent at the waist to rest his hands on his knees. He was going to be sick. Or pass out. Maybe both. All he knew was that he could see his world crashing down around him.

Jemma was going to read that letter and hate him for the rest of his _life_.

-

After spending a handful of minutes nearly having a panic attack, Fitz had come up with the only solution he could think of – he _had_ to beat that letter to Sheffield, he had to get to Jemma before she read it and never spoke to him again. Though his mum seemed to think it insane, Fitz knew that he had no other choice.

And so, he boarded the next train to Sheffield, anxiously tapping his feet and wringing his hands the entire four and a half hours there. He tried to come up with some semblance of an excuse, or an explanation, just in case she’d already read the letter, but the idea was so horrible that he just _couldn’t_. He refused to accept an outcome where Jemma had already laid eyes on the _monstrosity_ that was never meant to be seen by anyone, let alone _her_.

By sheer luck, Fitz managed to hail a cab and stumble out Jemma’s address coherently enough that he ended up at an intimidating two-story home with a long winding driveway. He still had no idea what he was doing, he just kept repeating to himself over and over that he had to _stop_ her from reading that damn _letter_ before it was too late.

He knocked on the front door with shaking hands, taking deep breaths and preparing himself to plead with Jemma to just give him the letter back as soon as she opened the door.

In all of his planning, it had never once occurred to him that anyone _but_ Jemma would open the door, actually.

So, when it finally did open and a woman with dirty blonde hair and Jemma’s kind smile appeared, Fitz found himself completely lost for words.

“May I help you?” the woman, who could only be Mrs. Simmons, asked as she peered at him in mild concern.

“You…uh…Jemma?” Fitz fought a wince, awkwardly stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Somehow, Mrs. Simmons’s expression dawned with understanding, and a playful smile tugged at her lips. “You wouldn’t happen to be Fitz, would you?” So relieved he could collapse, Fitz simply nodded. “Jemma didn’t say anything about you stopping by.” She peered over his shoulder at the idling cab, brow furrowing in confusion.

“She didn’t…uh, I thought I’d…surprise her?”

“Oh.” She frowned, then told him apologetically, “I’m afraid Jemma’s not here, Fitz. She left this morning to visit her aunt and uncle where they’re staying in Paris. She won’t be back until August.”

Initially, Fitz had the sinking feeling that it was all over and he was going to be forced to resolve himself to a life without Jemma in it (he couldn’t exactly jump on a flight to bloody _Paris_ after all), but then he saw a glimmer of hope. “She didn’t happen to receive a…um, letter, did she? From me?”

Mrs. Simmons’s smile grew as she nodded excitedly. “Oh yes! Just this morning, actually – she was thrilled to have gotten it before she left for the airport. Said it’d give her something to read on the plane.”

Fitz’s stomach gave a threatening roll, and afraid that he’d vomit on Jemma’s mum’s shoes and only make things _worse_ , he mumbled a hasty goodbye and hurried back to the cab. He was dazed and terrified, and couldn’t quite get his tingling fingers to stop shaking. He wasn’t even really aware of much of anything, until he’d somehow returned home, collapsed in his mum’s arms, and cried over ruining _everything_.

Love more than sucked – it was completely and utterly _useless_.

-

It had been _days_ , and Fitz had only grown more and more depressed over the destruction of his friendship with Jemma, all because of his stupid _feelings_. He’d tried calling her to attempt to explain somehow, but she never picked up, nor did she return any of the calls – she probably wasn’t even listening to the messages he’d left or reading the e-mails he’d sent.

While a part of Fitz couldn’t believe he’d screwed up so spectacularly, another part of him certainly could – Jemma was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, so of _course_ he’d have found a way to muck it all up and push her away. It’d only been a matter of time, really.

Finally, though, late one evening while a storm that fit his gloomy mood raged outside, it seemed that his mum had reached the end of her rope.

She was preparing to head out to meet Bonnie and Leslie for dinner, but when she’d stopped to say goodbye to him and found him still slouched on the couch in his ratty old t-shirt and too-short plaid pajama bottoms, she released an exasperated sigh.

“Oh come on Leo, you’ve got to get up, go out, do _something_ ,” she insisted, tugging the blanket he was all-but hiding under down so that he could see her disapproving frown.

Fitz groaned pathetically, pulling the blanket back up until it covered his head. “I don’t wanna do anything ever again. In fact, I should just call up SHIELD and tell ‘em I can’t go to the Academy anymore – what’s the point if Jemma hates me?”

“She does not _hate_ you,” she repeated yet again, clearly frustrated.

“Then why won’t she call me back, huh? If Jemma didn’t hate me, you’d think she’d at least have answered one of my calls, or sent me a quick e-mail to let me know that she’s _alive_.”

“Oh _honestly_ , how did you get so dramatic?” his mum grumbled. “Look sweetheart, you just have to give her some time; it’s a lot to take in, for anyone. But you don’t just throw away a friendship like yours, and Jemma’s a smart girl – she’ll know that, and eventually reach out to you. Just give her _time_.”

“Okay,” Fitz mumbled, even though he didn’t _want_ to, and he was still quite sure that Jemma hated his guts and reaching out to him was the very last thing in the world she wanted to do. He peeked his head out of the blanket slightly, just in time for his mum to drop a kiss on his forehead.

“This will work out, Leo, I truly believe that.” She ruffled his hair, then adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “Alright, I’m off. I’ll be back by nine, and do try not to wallow too much, okay?”

“No promises,” he muttered, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest. “Drive safe, Mum, and don’t forget your umbrella.”

She chuckled, picking it up and waving it pointedly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” She gave him another wave, then headed out the door, leaving Fitz alone with the rumbling thunder and pouring rain.

Sometime later, when he was scoffing at a low-budget horror movie with terrible effects (and trying his level-best not to think about Jemma and failing), Fitz was taken by complete surprise when a flash of brilliant lightening outside the nearest window was followed by a banging on the front door.

Letting out a harsh yelp, he fell off of the couch and onto the floor, tangled up in the blanket. When the loud knocking came again, he flailed about until he was free of the blanket, then got to his feet and cautiously approached the front door.

Knowing how his luck had been lately, there was probably a hockey-mask-wearing killer just waiting out there for him to open the door. But hey, at least that was better than being the jerk who’d managed to screw up a friendship with _Jemma_ , wasn’t it?

When he’d reached the door, he grasped the doorknob, taking a deep breath and slowly turning it until he could crack open the door and peer into the dark outside.

However, it wasn’t a masked killer with a machete waiting on the other side – it was an even _more_ shocking sight.

Standing right there on his doorstep was Jemma Simmons; she was soaked through from the rain, hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks, there was a slightly breathless grin on her face, and strangely enough, a suitcase was placed at her feet.

Fitz opened his mouth a couple of times, but he’d been rendered completely and thoroughly speechless by her sudden appearance (and _god_ , who had the right to look that _beautiful_ while any normal person would just look like a drowned rat?).

“Hi Fitz,” she whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard over the pounding of the rain against the roof. “I…I just…I had to see you.” She let out a disbelieving little laugh, shaking her head. “I left _Paris_ , got on the first plane here, and… I feel ridiculous, to be honest, but…” Taking a deep, shaky breath, she gave him a wobbly smile and said, “I’d just as gladly tear my own heart out and hand it over to you, Fitz – if such a thing was possible. I…I’ve been so conflicted, all summer, because I wanted to be happy to be home and with my family, but all I wanted was…to be with _you_ , and I didn’t understand what it all meant until I read your letter and…and it clicked, and…” She have another shake of her head, briefly closing her eyes and smiling so wide it had to be hurting her cheeks. “Oh _Fitz_ , I love you too.”

And then, before Fitz could even _try_ to come up with a response to the words that couldn’t possibly be real, Jemma’s freezing fingers clenched in a fist around the front of his thin t-shirt. Using her grip on him, she then tugged him out the doorway and out onto the step with her – right into the downpour. He was drenched within moments, but as Jemma threw her arms around his neck and pushed up onto the tips of her toes to press her lips firmly against his, suddenly Fitz didn’t care so much about the rain.

Maybe love didn’t suck after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	21. 3x01 AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @simmppaa on tumblr: "could write an season 3 AU where Fitz goes to the monolith room but the stone is already liquid so he shoots the door and takes the shotgun with him to maveth".
> 
> *Note: This fic disregards some of the more...triangular plots of Season 3A (just like I do lmao).

_We need to say goodbye._

_We need to say goodbye._

_We need to say goodbye._

Coulson’s words continued to ring in Fitz’s head as he stalked out of the lab with purpose, heading straight for containment and that damn _monolith_. He couldn’t just _say goodbye_ to Jemma, like she was just some…some _person_. She was Jemma, she was different – she was _everything_.

Fitz wasn’t giving up on her, no matter what Coulson said. There was one thing left to try, one last ditch effort, one desperate final attempt to find her. And if it didn’t work?

Well, he reasoned grimly as he grabbed a shotgun, either way it shook out, he’d still be with Jemma.

Once at the door of the storage room, Fitz tore down the caution tape without a second thought, kicking the door right open. He took two steps inside the room, then paused as he noticed the monolith just beginning to melt into its liquid form.

 _Perfect timing_.

Leveling the shotgun, he blasted off the locks keeping the monolith contained, yanked open the door of the case, and not giving it another thought, Fitz jumped straight in.

He wasn’t really sure _what_ he’d expected (in fact, a large part of him had honestly expected that this was it, and that death was his next stop), but whatever had been on that list, _this_ certainly wasn’t one of them.

Fitz’s back hit the ground roughly, and he let out a muffled groan as he cracked open his clenched eyes to find himself staring up at a deep blue sky.

_Huh?_

Scrambling to sit up, he shot a quick look around, and found that _everything_ was blue; the sand he was lying upon, the rock formations in the distance, and…well, there wasn’t much else, really.

Except the two _moons_ , of course.

“The… _hell_?” he muttered to himself, getting to his feet shakily, the shotgun still held loosely in his grip. His brain was so busy playing catch-up, it was only at that moment that it finally occurred to him: the monolith had clearly sent him through a portal to an entirely different planet, which meant…

 _So had Jemma_.

The relief hit him like a two-ton truck, and breathy, relieved laughs began to fall from his lips. His legs seemed no longer able to support him, and he sank back to his knees, dropping his hands to the sand in front of him to hold himself up as tears pricked at his eyes. Jemma was _alive_. He’d been right all along; _she was_ _alive_.

The only problem was, she’d already been there for six months – she could have been _anywhere_ by then.

Climbing back to his feet carefully, Fitz swiped the back of his hand over his cheeks to rid them of the few tears that had managed to escape. Yes, Jemma could’ve been anywhere, but he was _going_ to find her; now that he knew for sure the monolith hadn’t harmed her and they were in the same place, he wasn’t going to give up until they were back together.

With that in mind, Fitz rested the shotgun against his shoulder (just in case – he hadn’t the faintest clue what kind of life this planet could have had, no matter how abandoned it appeared), and started calling into the empty air, “Jemma? Jemma?” as he began walking.

When he reached the top of the nearest ridge, Fitz found himself staring out at miles and miles of nothing but _sand_.

-

It had been _weeks_ now since Jemma had sacrificed everything in the hopes that that bottle would make it back through the portal, make it to _Fitz_ , and all of those hopes had been crushed in the same moment the bottle had been. When she’d been forced to return to Will’s little hovel in the ground with no hope of ever returning _home_ , she’d simply shut down. She didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to explore, didn’t want to talk. All Jemma wanted to do with curl up on her cot, revel in the memories she had of home (of _Fitz_ ), and pretend she was there instead of _here_.

Will had tried multiple times to get her to at least speak a few words here and there, but Jemma just couldn’t muster up the _energy_. She knew it wasn’t exactly fair to Will, given that he finally had company after all those years alone, but she just _couldn’t_ ; she was broken and empty inside, and there was nothing she could do about it.

After all, what was even the point of continuing to try, or even continuing to _exist_ if this was what the rest of her life looked like?

Jemma had always been strong, had always been able to lock down her emotions and hide them away, turn them into the energy needed to keep pushing forward. But this time? There was _nowhere_ to push forward to. All she had to look forward to was either wasting away alone on a deserted planet, or finally getting caught by the mysterious and deadly IT that Will so feared.

After the future she’d _thought_ she was headed toward just months ago, both possibilities were ridiculously, _laughably_ pale in comparison.

Jemma barely glanced up when Will entered the back room where they slept, leaning up against the doorway and narrowing his eyes. “Alright,” he said after a moment, his tone firm, “I’m going out to look for food.” She started to give a tiny nod in understanding, but then he went on, “And you’re coming with me.”

Instead of offering a verbal response, Jemma simply scoffed. He couldn’t make her do _anything_ , and if she had any say in it, she was staying right there, thank you very much.

But, apparently, she _didn’t_ have any say in it.

A moment later, Will had come to stand over her cot, and before she could protest, he was grasping her hands and yanking her up and off of it. “ _Will_!” she cried, struggling to get him to let go, but after so long spent wallowing in a deep depression, her strength had been sapped and her attempts to fight back were weak. “Let _go_ of me!” she finally insisted, scowling fiercely up at him.

“No,” he replied simply, then proceeded to drag her along behind him to the exit of the cave, all-but pushing her up the rungs of the ladder until she’d (very unhappily, she must add) ended up back in the bleak blue landscape waiting for them outside.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Jemma demanded as soon as Will had exited and secured the cave behind them, planting her hands on her hips.

“You’re wasting away in there,” Will said plainly, placing a hand over his gun, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice, as he started wandering in the direction of the sparse plant life growing nearby.

“So?” she asked snidely – she was the doctor of the two of them, _of course_ she knew what she was doing. “What other option do I have? Spending the rest of my days hiding from some monster in a _cave_? Will, that’s not a _life_. You may have had nothing to lose back on Earth, but I had _everything_ , and now I’ve lost it again, this time for good.”

She knew her words were harsh, but she was miserable and empty and missed Fitz so much that her chest never stopped _aching_ – Will couldn’t possibly understand that.

“Being stuck here, it’s…it’s not the end of the world, alright?” he told her, his tone sharp and almost frustrated, as though there was something else he wanted to say, but was dancing around it for some reason (which was odd, normally he was jarringly blunt and to the point).

Jemma arched a disbelieving eyebrow. “Oh? That’s quite unbelievable coming from Mister Doom and Gloom, you know.”

Will released a tense sigh, pausing and turning to face her angrily. “Look –”

However, it was at that moment that Jemma spotted a dark blob standing out against the never-changing blue horizon, just over Will’s shoulder.

“What the…?” she cut into whatever it was he’d been about to say, stepping absently past him and squinting to try and get a better look.

He spun around, peering across the distance as well, and within moments his gun was out and cocked. “We need to get back to the cave, _now_.”

However, Jemma didn’t immediately listen – this thing didn’t _look_ like IT had, and the sandstorm that seemed to always follow the monster around was pointedly lacking. Plus, she didn’t quite care anymore whether that beast got her, did she? “Hold on a moment, will you?”

Even though he called at her to stop, Jemma took a few steps, getting closer and closer as the shape on the horizon continued to steadily grow and grow until she saw something she couldn’t quite believe –

But Jemma would know that frame, that gait _anywhere_ , even from this distance, even on an alien planet.

Blinking back tears, she immediately rushed forward and called out disbelievingly, “ _Fitz_?” because it couldn’t _really_ be him, could it? Was she just delusional from the lack of sleep and a healthy diet? Had this planet finally gotten to her?

Then, she saw the form pause, followed by the muffled shout of, “ _Jemma_?” and somehow, it was _him_ , it was his dear, _dear_ voice (even if she knew nothing else, Jemma would be able to pick out Fitz’s voice among any crowd).

Before she knew it, Jemma was dashing across the sand, racing toward him until she was close enough to see his _face_ and it was so beautiful and _real_ that she could have cried (and honestly, she probably was), and then they were collapsing to their knees in each other’s arms.

“You’re _here_ ,” she gasped out against his shoulder, grasping the loose fabric of his shirt in her fists, “You’re here, you’re here, you’re here.” The tears were most certainly streaming down her face now, making the startled, relieved laughter leaving her lips come out watery. “ _Fitz_. Fitz Fitz Fitz Fitz _Fitz_.”

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here,” he promised over and over again, clasping her to him fiercely, and she could feel the wetness of his tears dropping onto her bare shoulder. “Oh _Jemma_ , I can’t believe… I’m so sorry, I’m so _sorry_. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t…”

“Shhh Fitz, it’s alright, you’re here.” She stroked a hand through his hair, unable to help the smile tugging at her lips because he was real and he was there and she could actually _touch_ him.

She had no idea how long they stayed there, hugging each other, crying and laughing and repeating each other’s names just because they _could_. Eventually, though, the moment was broken by a gruff voice saying, “We need to get back. _Now_.”

Reluctantly, Jemma pulled back from Fitz to glance up at Will’s solemn expression. His mistrusting gaze was placed squarely on Fitz, who seemed terribly confused by Will’s sudden appearance. “Of course,” she agreed, hastily wiping her tears and getting to her feet, catching Fitz’s hand to tug him up after her.

“Get back to where?” Fitz asked her in confusion.

“To our shelter, of course.” Jemma squeezed his hand, then nodded in the direction of the cave. “Come on, it isn’t far, and we’ve got some food and water. Plus, it’s much warmer there.”

Fitz followed her willingly, just as he’d always done, and it made her feel warm and full and happy enough to completely ignore Will’s displeased grumbling as they made the short trek back to the cave.

Once they were inside and the door had been secured, Jemma led Fitz to one of the chairs at the little table in the main room, but then she happened to notice Will hovering near the entrance to the back room. When their gazes met, he nodded her over, and Jemma fought against the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she promised Fitz, briefly clasping his shoulder, if only to feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

As soon as she’d joined Will in the “bedroom” of the cave, he threw a suspicious glare vaguely in Fitz’s direction, hissing, “You shouldn’t have brought him here.”

“And why _not_?” Jemma demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fitz is my best friend, and I trust him more than anyone in the world – or any world, for that matter.”

Will shook his head tightly, turning to stalk over to the ladder leading out of the cave. “You’re making a mistake, and I refuse to be a part of it,” he told her grimly, climbing up the ladder to disappear through the exit. The metal door shut and secured behind him with a _clang_ that rang through the small cave.

She perched on the chair across from Fitz, and they were quiet a moment before he nodded in the direction of the cave’s exit and asked uncomfortably, “What, uh…what’s with him?”

“Will? Oh, he’s an astronaut, who’s actually been stuck here for _fourteen years_.” She shuddered at the very idea, still unable to believe he’d survived for so long in such a horrible place – especially when six months had already been _far_ too long for her. “It’s kind of made him…rather pessimistic. And a very underwhelming conversationalist.”

“Fourteen _years_?” Fitz repeated incredulously. “All by himself? How has he not gone completely _mad_?”

Jemma shook her head, not entirely sure of that herself. “It’s beyond me.” Fitz opened his mouth, no doubt to inquire more about Will’s exile on the planet, but at that moment, Will was the very last thing she wanted to talk about.

So, before he could get his question out, she grappled for another subject, and her gaze happened to land on the gun he’d been carrying, now leaning up against the wall.

“Alright, I have to ask: _what_ are you doing with that shotgun?”

Fitz seemed surprised at first, but his expression quickly collapsed into a grimace and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ah, the shotgun. Yeah, um…I just happened to have it with me, y’know.”

Jemma frowned, furrowing her brow as she turned back to face Fitz fully. “Never in my life have I seen you casually carry around a _shotgun_.” Suddenly, her eyes narrowed and she said, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

He sighed heavily, sinking a bit in his seat. “Yeah.” Lifting his eyes to the low ceiling above them, he pressed his lips together then admitted hesitantly, “I may have…uh…used it to…shoot the locks off of the case containing the monolith?”

Of _course_ the monolith had been in containment after what it had done to her, why hadn’t she realized that sooner? It was proper SHIELD procedure, after all. “But why would you…” Jemma shook her head in confusion; there was something important she was missing, but she couldn’t quite grasp it yet. “You must’ve already studied it, and you _knew_ it was dangerous, so…”

Then, it hit her.

“You _broke into containment_ just to follow me here, didn’t you?” She covered her mouth with a hand, feeling her eyes burn with tears once more as the thought finally finished forming. Slowly lowering her hand, she whispered, “You didn’t know what the monolith did, did you?”

Fitz bowed his head, letting out a great, heaving sigh that had his shoulders rising and falling. “No,” he admitted after a long, tense moment.

“Oh my _god_.” Jemma took a couple of deep breaths, closing her eyes and resting her head in her trembling hands. “You went in there to…to _die_.”

“I wasn’t _positive_ it’d kill me,” he insisted, trying desperately to placate her. “I mean, it was a reasonable assessment, given my previous findings, but…” Her shoulders began to shake then with restrained sobs, the pent up emotion of the past few weeks, then finding Fitz only to realize he’d tried to _die_ enough to break apart the walls she kept around her emotions. “Hey, Jemma, stop, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t… I mean, I thought you were…”

Jemma quickly lifted her head, narrowing her eyes around the tears. “That’s no excuse, Fitz! Even if I _was_ dead, the very last thing I’d want was for you to join me!”

“Yeah, well, I _tried_ , okay? I tried to prepare myself for the possibility that you were…” He trailed off, releasing a harsh breath, then started again, “I tried to convince myself to move on, but…but it’s impossible. I…I couldn’t live if you didn’t, alright? It’s just…it’s that simple.”

Her bottom lip trembled as she sniffled back her tears, laughing humorlessly as she told him, “That’s not simple at all, Fitz. Us, the way we…feel about each other? It’s utterly _complicated_.”

He let out a shaky sigh, giving a small nod of agreement. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Silence descended between them then, and as Jemma brushed away her tears, she studied him for the first time under the cave’s brighter light. Though the sight of him was enough to have her heart swelling in her chest until it was painful, there was also a concern rapidly taking shape inside of her.

“You look _terrible_ ,” she commented worriedly, stroking a thumb over the dark bags under one of his eyes, her fingers brushing up against his prickly stubble.

“Gee, thanks,” he teased, but when she arched an eyebrow, he sighed and gave a wide shrug. “Well, yeah, ‘course I do. I _have_ spent the last six months trying to find you, y’know. Barely remember what sleep is anymore.” When that joke failed to amuse her as well, he finally murmured, “I’ve been falling apart, Jemma. Everyone’s been telling me for months now that it didn’t look good, that maybe I couldn’t find a trace of you because there wasn’t a trace to _find_ , then Coulson tells me that we need to say goodbye and…”

When Jemma reached out to place a hand over his, he hesitantly raised his eyes to meet hers. “We’re together now, Fitz, and that’s all that matters.” She squeezed his hand lightly, giving a little laugh as she reminded him, “We are smarter together, after all. We can fix this and get home. With our combined knowledge of the monolith and of course, our combined intellects, we’ll likely be back before dawn.”

Her words had his lips curling up in a hopeful smile, and he sat up straighter, asking softly, “Yeah?”

Even though she hated the very idea that Fitz had ever ended up on this wretched planet (especially because of _her_ ), Jemma could feel nothing in that moment but a surge of utter gratitude – to be seeing him again, of course, but also because if she was going to be stuck on a deserted planet trying to find a way home with anyone, she’d _always_ want it to be Fitz.

“Yeah,” Jemma confirmed warmly, “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	22. 4x22 Missing Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Hi, so I'd REALLY like you to write a missing moment from the finale from when we last see Fitz after Aida destroys LMD Jemma to when we see FitzSimmons running down to see Coulson kill Aida, if you're up for it. I just feel like Fitz, even knowing that it wasn't really Jemma, would need some sort of confirmation that she was alive. Like, he sees her, and just has to reach out and touch her to confirm that she's okay."

“It’s…uh, it’s fortunate they weren’t able to use your LMD,” Fitz commented awkwardly, pointedly keeping his gaze away from the inhumanly still Jemma leant up against the wall nearby – but also making sure to keep his gaze firmly away from the _real_ Jemma, who no doubt wished to be anywhere but there with him at that moment.

Fitz had already lived through a time in his life where he hadn’t known what to say to Jemma, where there had been a canyon of distance between them that neither of them had been sure how to cross – but somehow, _this_ was worse.

At least back then, they’d both _wanted_ to cross that distance. Now, even though Jemma had been there for him after they’d fled the Playground and he’d broken down, he was still quite sure she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

“Fortunate. Yes.” Jemma’s words were flat, and Fitz mentally berated himself for saying anything to begin with; _of course_ she didn’t want to make small talk with him, the man who she had watched kill innocent people, the man who had _shot_ her and attempted to kill her as well.

Deciding to simply stick to business instead, he finished prepping the brain scan and picked up the head piece connected by wires to the laptop he was using. “Alright, I’ll just need you to put this on for a few minutes.”

Jemma eyed the head piece for a tense moment, then shakily took it from him and visibly flinched as she lowered it onto her head. Concern swelled inside of him at her strange reaction, and he wrung his hands anxiously as he tried to decide if he could handle asking her what had happened (he knew _something_ must’ve happened with the LMD that had taken his place, but hadn’t been able to stomach any of the details well enough to ask after them).

Seeing his distraction, Jemma inhaled slowly, then explained unprompted, “The last time I was wearing this…let’s just say things didn’t go very well.”

And then, he caught sight of her fingertips absently brushing against her right thigh, and somehow, Fitz understood that whatever had happened with his LMD was _bad_.

“It…it was me, wasn’t it? My…” He trailed off, nodding toward her deactivated LMD. Sure, he didn’t think he could stomach hearing this, but he deserved to have to hear about it, didn’t he? It was his fault, after all, just another item to add to his list of transgressions.

“It’s wasn’t…” Jemma released a quiet sigh, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter, Fitz.”

“I hurt you, didn’t I?”

She was quiet for a moment, and when it had drawn on too long, Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. “It doesn’t matter,” she finally repeated, though her tone was much more subdued. That was how he knew that whatever it was she was keeping from him, it had caused her more than just physical pain, and it continued to plague her even now.

It was yet another terrible thing that had happened to Jemma because of _him_ ; all he ever seemed to bring her was pain and unhappiness.

-

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later, but things had somehow only gotten _worse_.

Of course, the plan had always been to tempt AIDA with an unprotected Jemma, to trick her into harming the LMD, and Fitz had always known that it was going to hurt seeing _Jemma’s_ face contorted in pain and _her_ eyes blank and _her_ chest still.

But, he hadn’t counted on _how much_ it would hurt.

As soon as AIDA had teleported out of the server room, Fitz turned back to face the crumpled LMD on the floor, his hands still trembling and his tired eyes stinging with unshed tears. For a long moment, he forced his protesting lungs to expand as he took deep breaths, staring down at the blood pooling around Jemma. The words “ _you did this_ ” rang through his head, over and over until the tears began to drip down his cheeks.

Fitz felt like dropping to the floor beside her, leaning back against the wall of servers and allowing the guilt that tore at his heart to fully consume him.

But, unfortunately, he didn’t have the time, so he took a steadying breath, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and left to go find the real Jemma.

He hurried through the halls in a daze, seeing the blood dripping down Jemma’s chin and the screwdriver sticking out of her chest every time he blinked. Every time the image flashed across the backs of his eyelids, he picked up his pace, needing desperately to find her, to confirm that _she_ was okay.

Then, he turned a corner, and _there she was_.

Fitz nearly collapsed in relief at the mere sight of her, not a drop of blood on her and her eyes bright with _life_. He caught himself on the nearest wall, taking deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart. She was alright. She was alive. She was _alive_.

“It worked,” she informed him, entirely unaware of the emotions currently overwhelming him. “Coulson got a hold of AIDA, and they teleported out of here.”

All he could manage was an absent nod as his gaze greedily took her in, the sight of her undamaged heart enough to cause his shoulders to sag in pure relief. The image of her bloodied LMD was still fresh in his mind, however, and at that moment all he could think was that if AIDA really _had_ hurt Jemma, if she’d…if she’d _died_ , it would’ve been all because of _him_.

In fact, _everything_ that had happened had been his fault – he couldn’t even allow himself to think about how he’d treated Jemma in the Framework, about everything she’d been put through just because of _him_ and his carelessness. It was all _too much_ , and he’d be pulled under until he was of no use to the rest of the team.

All he had to do was hold it together until they made it out of this, _then_ he could accept whatever punishment he deserved for the horrible things that had happened, all of the pain he’d caused.

At that moment, they both whirled around at the sound of a commotion somewhere down the hall. They exchanged a brief, wordless glance, and as they dashed off to investigate, Fitz couldn’t quite stop his hand from reaching out to brush the small of her back, as though to simply guide her.

But, the truth was that he really just needed to make sure once more that she was _alive_ and she was real and she was unharmed – even though he _knew_ he shouldn’t be allowed the privilege of touching her anymore. All he ever did was hurt her, after all.

It was then that a thought that had been brushing at the back of his mind all day made itself known; in order to keep Jemma safe, to keep what happened to her LMD from happening to _her_ , he needed to remove himself from her life. He needed to distance himself, before something he created, something he _did_ , caused her irreparable damage.

Though it would surely kill him to no longer have her in his life, Fitz knew that it didn’t really matter; he’d already lost her, and even if he hadn’t, _anything_ was worth protecting Jemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	23. One Night Stand AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in a non-SHIELD AU

“ _So you’re sure you can’t make it?_ ” The pout was clear in Daisy’s voice, even coming from the tinny speakers of Jemma’s phone, where it was resting on her desk a few feet away.

“I’m sorry, Daisy, but I’m positive. This project is too important, not to mention time-sensitive. If I didn’t skip tonight, I’d have to miss tomorrow’s rehearsal dinner, and I think that’s a bit more important.” It was as much as she’d already explained to Daisy, but it hadn’t put a stop to the nearly endless pleading.

“ _But come_ on _Jemma! How often do you get a chance to go out, get drunk, and do something stupid? Plus, Hunter’s for sure gonna make a fool of himself, and that’s not something you want to miss._ ”

Jemma sighed heavily, lifting her head away from her microscope in order to close her tired eyes and rest her forehead in one of her palms. “Daisy, I’m sorry, but I really can’t come tonight. But the best man and I have arranged everything, and I promise you it’ll be a night to remember. Or…not, as it were.”

When Jemma’s old university roommate and close friend, Bobbi Morse, had suddenly announced months ago that she was engaged to her on-again off-again boyfriend Lance Hunter, Jemma had been leery from the start. After all, the two had never been what one would call a “stable couple”, but when Bobbi had asked her to be maid of honor, she had accepted and promised herself to support her friend no matter what.

Unfortunately, the lead-up to the wedding had happened to coincide with a hugely important project in the lab where she worked, and the combined stress of the two had had her nearly dead on her feet for weeks now. Thankfully, the project would be finished come morning, just in time for her to focus her attention on the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself the following day.

Daisy, however, seemed to think it was more important that Jemma drop everything to attend Bobbi and Hunter’s combined bachelor/bachelorette party that night (planned as such because, as Bobbi so bluntly put it, Hunter was not to be trusted unsupervised with alcohol in the mix).

“ _How did you manage that_?” Daisy asked incredulously. “ _I thought you’d never met before_.”

“We haven’t,” Jemma answered tiredly, rubbing her aching eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “We’ve been emailing.” Finally having had enough, she lifted her head and picked up her phone, switching off the speakerphone and holding it up to her ear. “Daisy, the longer you waste my time unsuccessfully trying to convince me to leave my work for the night, the longer it’s going to take me to _finish_ said work. I promise you, as soon I no longer have to worry about this project or the wedding, I will get blindingly drunk with you and make up for tonight. Are we clear?”

Daisy gave an exaggerated sigh, but her tone was contradictorily bright as she replied, “ _As crystal, Jem. I’m holding you to that, believe me. Alright, I’ve gotta go get dressed for some clubbing, so I’ll see you tomorrow._ ”

“I’ll be the one with the coffee and aspirin.”

“ _What would we do without you?_ ”

“Suffer terrible hangovers,” Jemma answered simply. “Remember to drink lots of water, stay safe, and have fun. Oh, and make sure Bobbi does as well – and that Hunter doesn’t have _too_ much.”

“ _I think that’s the best man’s job, but I’ll do my best to help. Love ya, Jem!”_

As the call disconnected, Jemma shook her head with a fond sigh and dove back into her work, determined to have it finished before the sun rose the next morning – when she’d have to go straight into wedding madness.

She really _was_ going to have to let Daisy take her drinking after all of this, or else she was afraid she’d forget what the word ‘fun’ meant.

-

Two days later, Jemma no longer had work hanging over her, but she was no less stressed for it. The wedding was due to start in an hour, and she’d seen neither hide nor hair of the mysterious best man, who had also been absent for the rehearsal dinner the previous night (and had apparently ditched out early on the bachelor party, according to Daisy). Hunter had assured her that he’d make it today, but as the time ticked away, Jemma was growing less and less sure that she could trust Hunter’s word.

Of course, she’d been careful to keep any mention of the issue from Bobbi, but as she was getting dressed in the deep blue bridesmaid dress Bobbi had picked for her and Daisy, she couldn’t help her wandering thoughts. What the hell were they supposed to do if the best man was a no show? Did he have the rings? Would the entire wedding come to a halt if there were no rings?

She was startled out of her thoughts when there was a sharp rap on the door of the bathroom she’d disappeared to so that Bobbi wouldn’t catch wind of her mini-panic attack. It was closely followed by an unsure voice calling, “Uh…Jemma? It’s me, Fitz. The, um…the best man?”

Breathing out sharply in something between relief and irritation, Jemma stomped over and flung the door open to find a wide-eyed man on the other side, holding up his hands as though he was warding off a wild animal. He was a little taller than her with close-cropped curls and a stubbly little beard, as well as a very nice pair of blue eyes and an even nicer tux closely-cut to his body.

The man, Fitz, opened his mouth, no doubt about to spew some bullshit excuse for his lateness, but she was having _none_ of that.

“It’s about damn _time_ ,” she hissed, leaning forward to peer over his shoulder into the thankfully empty hallway before yanking him into the bathroom with her. He yelped in surprise, but she ignored it. “I don’t care where you were or what you were doing, all I care about is making sure today goes off without a hitch, because Bobbi deserves it, alright?”

Fitz blinked a couple times, gaping at her in complete disbelief. But, when she narrowed her eyes in a fierce glare, he gulped audibly and nodded in understanding.

“Good. Now, do you have the rings? Hunter’s vows?”

Fitz quickly emptied out his pockets, and after unearthing a cell phone, a half-empty pack of gum, and a set of keys, he finally set the velvet ring box and folded slip of paper down on the counter between them. When he continued patting his pockets, however, Jemma glanced at him in question. “Oh, uh, I guess I forgot my wallet,” he explained sheepishly, hurriedly shoving the items back into his pockets. As he was doing so, he shot her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and cleared his throat, then asked awkwardly, “Did you…um…need help with your zipper, or…?”

“What?” Confused, Jemma glanced down at herself, and gasped sharply when she realized that he’d knocked on the door when she’d been in process of doing up the zipper on the back of her dress. Without her notice, the front had begun to sag, exposing _far_ more of her breasts and her strapless lacy black bra than it should. “ _Shit_!” Tugging the neckline back into its proper place, Jemma felt her cheeks beginning to burn with a rather intense blush and she spun away from Fitz to hide her embarrassment. “Just…just go, alright? I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Fitz seemed to hesitate, but then she heard his footsteps heading toward the door, followed by the sound of it opening and closing. When she was finally alone, Jemma leaned heavily against the wall and groaned pitifully.

This wedding couldn’t be over soon enough.

-

Bobbi and Hunter had finally said ‘I do’, the whole ceremony had gone perfectly to plan (aside from Hunter’s eye-roll-worthy vows, which included ill-humored jokes and reminders of how attractive he found his new bride), and all that was left to survive was the reception before she could finally _relax_ for the first time in months.

“ _Or_ ,” Daisy offered pointedly when Jemma had said as much to her, “you could relax _now_. C’mon, the reception is really just one big party, and you _did_ promise to get drunk with me.”

“I promised to get drunk with you _after_ the wedding was over, actually,” Jemma corrected, idly twisting the stem of her glass of barely-touched champagne between her fingers.

“ _Technically_ , the wedding _is_ over.” When Jemma’s only answer was a glare, Daisy groaned in defeat. “Okay, fine, whatever. But, you have to have at least one drink stronger than champagne, alright? You need to unwind, Jem.”

Jemma mulled over the potential compromise, but could see nothing wrong with it, so she nodded in acceptance. “Alright, that sounds reasonable. I’ll be right back, then.”

She left a grinning Daisy behind at their table as she headed over to the open bar, leaning her elbows on the counter as she waited for the bartender to finish with the small group of people at the other end of the bar. The laminated list of the wedding’s specialty drinks (that she’d put together, of course) was set up just to her right, and she rolled her eyes as she remembered how _sick_ they’d all been the morning after trying drink combination after drink combination to find the perfect ones.

Then she caught sight of someone hunched over on a bar stool just beyond the list, and a frown tugged at her lips as she noticed a rather unhappy-looking Fitz downing a drink that had him wincing. Confused and more than a little irritated at the sight (he was due to give a speech at some point tonight, after all), Jemma abandoned her spot and strode over. “What’s your problem, then? Didn’t get drunk enough Friday night?”

Fitz was clearly startled by her abrupt appearance, but it wasn’t long before his miserable expression set back in. “M’not in the mood. Just wanna forget for a bit.”

“Forget _what_? Your responsibilities as a best man? To not even show _up_ to the rehearsal dinner, then to nearly be late for the wedding itself wasn’t enough?” She knew she was being a bit harsh, but if he was Hunter’s friend, then he likely just needed a firm hand to keep him in line as well.

Fitz didn’t seem to appreciate her efforts, though, and he threw a frosty glare in her direction as he snapped, “Look, I’m trying my best, okay? Give me a break, my bloody grandmother died, I quite literally _just_ went to her funeral, and I just need a few goddamn minutes. Is that alright with you?”

“Oh my _god_.” Jemma slapped both hands over her mouth to try and stifle her gasp, her wide eyes almost immediately beginning to burn with tears. “Oh Fitz, I…I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Truly, I would never have… I’m so _sorry_.”

Fitz sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with it, then he gave her a weak smile and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for snapping.” He nodded to the empty stool beside him and offered hopefully, “If you promise not to cry and make me feel even worse, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“It’s…it’s an open bar,” Jemma pointed out, blinking back the tears before they ruined her makeup.

He made a face, then rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever, it’s a figure of speech. D’you wanna get drunk with me?”

She chewed her lip as she thought it over, but she’d just come off of a time-consuming work project, helping to plan a wedding, and now insulting a man who had just lost his grandmother. She figured she’d be doing them all a favor by taking the edge off just a bit.

With that in mind, she climbed onto the stool beside him and met his little smile with one of her own. “You’re on, Fitz.”

What was _not_ helpful to any one at all, ever, though, was how Jemma woke up the next morning – stark naked in what had to be a hotel room, draped across Fitz’s bare chest, her head pounding and her mouth tasting vaguely of bile.

Well, at least he must’ve forgiven her for being so rude at the wedding, then.

-

Things had gone back to normal after that, when the wedding was finally off of her shoulders and Hunter and Bobbi had been seen safely off to their honeymoon. However, the calm didn’t last for very long, as it was a mere month and a half later that Jemma found herself sitting on the edge of the bathtub in Daisy’s apartment, absently toying with a skinny stick of plastic.

She’d spent the past week having terrible bouts of nausea that _hadn’t_ turned into the flu as she’d expected, and instead had come accompanied with an increasingly sensitive bladder and all-but crippling exhaustion. Jemma was far from brainless, and she’d immediately purchased a handful of tests and appeared at her best friend’s doorstep far earlier in the morning than she would have under normal circumstances.

Daisy’s crankiness had only lasted for mere moments once she’d caught a glimpse of the panic Jemma was trying so desperately to hide. Now, even though she was still in her pajamas, she was perched on the edge of the tub beside Jemma, clearly still in shock, but completely supportive.

“So, you banged the best man,” she stated, shaking her head slowly. “ _Whoa_. Talk about cliché, Jem.”

Jemma groaned, dropping her head to rest in one of her hands. “Daisy, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just still totally shocked. I mean, you never said anything. Like, I saw you guys cozying up together and I guess I should’ve seen it coming from how _carefree_ you seemed to be that night, but… _wow_.” She paused, then turned to Jemma, her brow furrowed curiously. “Was he any good?”

“ _Daisy_!”

“What?!”

“Please, can we focus here?”

“Fine, fine.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then asked gently, “Have you seen him since the wedding?”

Jemma shook her head miserably. “After Bobbi and Hunter got back from their honeymoon, they invited us both over for dinner to thank us, but I backed out at the last moment because I was too embarrassed to see him again.”

Daisy gave her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. “Looks like you’re gonna _have_ to, Jem.”

With that, she pointedly tapped the positive pregnancy test Jemma was still fidgeting nervously with, identical to the other positive tests spread out on the bathroom counter across from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	24. Evelyn + Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "it's really, really sad, but it got me thinking- daisy taking Evie in after FitzSimmons (oh god it hurts to say this) ...die? And Evie is a teenager, and loves science, but also loves field work (like a mini coulson) and Daisy trains her and the team looks after her?"
> 
> As stated in the prompt, this fic contains implied character death.

_“Blow out the candle, Evelyn, you can do it!”_

_“See? Like this – it’s easy…_ Oops _…”_

_“Ugh Fitz!”_

_“I’m sorry! We’ll just relight…or Evie can tear into the cake, which she already seems to be doing. That’s my girl right there!_ ”

Evelyn let out a watery laugh as the image on the screen shifted to show her one-year-old self with fistfuls of cake and a big, toothless grin on her icing-covered face. “ _Oh dear…_ ” Her mother, lips pressed together in an attempt to hide her amusement, stepped into the frame then, a napkin at the ready, but then she sighed and let out a little laugh. “ _Well, I suppose it_ is _her birthday._ ”

Her father appeared then as well, squatting until he was level with Evelyn’s highchair. “ _You gonna share, Evie?_ ” When she immediately squealed in delight and shoved a handful of squashed cake into his face, a round of laughter went up in the background of the video. “ _Ah yes, thank you sweetheart._ ”

“ _Well, you did ask for it,_ ” her mother pointed out, not even trying to hold back her giggles as she attempted to wipe away the mess on her father’s face.

Her parents began to playfully bicker then, and Evelyn never used to think it was possible to feel simultaneously so warm and happy, and yet so broken and empty, but now it was a mixture of feeling she was intimately familiar with. In this video, they were all so carefree and happy and things were so _good_ …

They’d had no idea that everything would end up going so terribly wrong in the future, that one day, Evelyn would be curled up on her bed with only videos and pictures left.

“Evelyn?”

Sniffling back her tears at the call from outside her door, Evelyn quickly paused the video and shut her laptop. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Daisy entered, a big smile on her face – but it faded at the sight of the drying tears on Evelyn’s cheeks, the laptop sitting in front of her. Sighing, she perched on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to thumb away the remaining tears. “Hey, no tears today, alright? It’s your sixteenth birthday! Aren’t you supposed to be bugging me to get your license or something? I bet if you asked, Papa Phil would let you drive Lola.”

“I don’t want to,” Evelyn answered flatly, shaking her head.

Daisy was quiet a moment as she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. “Evie, I…I know your birthdays are…difficult for you now, but…I’m trying, okay? I knew your parents pretty well, and I know they’d want me to make today as good for you as I possibly can, so that’s what I’m doing. But…but if you really want me to, I’ll send everyone home, and I’ll watch every single one of those old home videos with you and cry while we stuff our faces with birthday cake.”

Finally, Evelyn cracked a smile, shaking her head to decline the offer. “Thanks Aunt Daisy, but…Mum and Dad would hate that, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t want me to be _sad_ on my birthday…especially not about them. They’d _get_ it, but they’d want more for me.”

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed softly, “they would.”

So, with that in mind, Evelyn quickly tamed her at times unmanageable curls into a bun, and followed Daisy to where everyone was apparently waiting on her in the common area of SHIELD’s main base, where Evelyn spent most of her time these days.

“Oh, before I forget,” Daisy said as they headed through the halls, “Jax wasn’t able to make it, but he says Happy Birthday.”

Evelyn fought down the surge of disappointment – if anyone understood how she felt, it was Jaxon Johnson, Daisy’s adoptive son. His mother had been on Daisy’s team of Secret Warriors years ago, but when a mission had claimed her life, she’d all-but begged Daisy on her death bed to take care of Jaxon. He’d been just four at the time, and Daisy had ended up raising him as her own until she’d felt he was ready to know about his mother’s painful story – it was how Evelyn and Jaxon had grown up almost like siblings.

However, he’d turned eighteen just a few months ago, and as per their agreement, Daisy had sent him to the Cocoon to receive and adapt to his Inhuman powers. As such, they hadn’t seen each other since then, and it’d been hard not having him to talk to or lean on – especially now.

“But hey,” she went on brightly, elbowing Evelyn lightly in the ribs, “Uncle Mack and tía Yo-Yo are here, so you’ve got Frankie and Josie still.”

That brought a smile to Evelyn’s face; she wasn’t as close with Mack and Elena’s children, but she and Frankie were only six months apart, so they’d been friends practically since they were born. “I hope Frankie knows that I’m gonna kick his ass at Mario Kart.”

Daisy snorted at that. “Honestly, the fact that they’re still making those games is completely ridiculous.” They reached the common area then, and she sobered, catching Evelyn’s elbow before she could enter. “Just…do your best, okay? Today’s about you, not any of us.”

Evelyn took a deep breath, nodding in understanding and forcing a smile regardless as Daisy led the way into the room.

The party had everything: cake and balloons and a pile of presents, Coulson’s corny jokes and May’s fond eye-rolls, Daisy’s contagious excitement, Mack’s bear hugs and Elena’s entertaining stories, Frankie’s quiet comfort and Josie’s childish giggles.

But, all Evelyn could seem to see were the two people that should’ve been there more than anything else, and _weren’t_.

-

Having had enough celebrating for the day, Evelyn had finally managed to flee to the lab, and could breathe a sigh of relief once she was in amongst the bubbling flasks and messily spread out blueprints. She pulled her lab coat off its hook and slid it on, going straight to her assigned station.

There had been much speculation while she’d been growing up on which area of science (if one at all) she’d specialize in. But, neither of her parents had been willing to give up pushing their own area of expertise, so Evelyn had ended up being something of a chameleon in the lab. She could easily switch between multiple projects, and even complete quite a few by herself; she was well-versed in chemistry, physics, biology, technology, and a few other odds and ends – there wasn’t one field she was more skilled in than others, and enjoyed each of them equally.

And much like her parents, the lab was her safe, happy place. It was strange, because being there reminded her of her parents more than any other place – but it was also where she felt most connected to them, so the ache in her chest was a…good one, in a way.

In the lab, it was almost as though they were still there with her, as silly (and logically impossible) as it sounded.

However, the happiness didn’t last long, given that she’d apparently been followed when she’d fled her party.

“Evelyn?”

Swearing under her breath, Evelyn released a sigh and lifted her safety goggles to the top of her head, turning on her stool to meet Coulson’s gaze. “Yeah?”

For a beat, he studied her, then he gave her a small smile and apologized, “I’m sorry if that was all a bit…much. Daisy was just excited. Sixteen’s a pretty big milestone, after all.”

“I know.” Against her will, her tone came out flat, and not wanting to make Coulson feel bad, she quickly forced cheer into her voice and said, “I just didn’t want to let my projects go by the wayside, even if it is my birthday. The world isn’t gonna save itself, you know?”

He chuckled quietly and commented, “Well now, that all sounds pretty familiar.”

She was _sure_ that he’d meant to make her smile with the comparison drawn between her and her parents, but it immediately had tears springing up in her eyes. Hastily, to keep him from seeing them, she bowed her head.

Coulson was pretty perceptive (decades as an agent and the former director of SHIELD would do that), however. “Evelyn,” he prompted quietly.

She swallowed roughly, taking a moment to attempt to control the urge to cry before she lifted her head to show she was listening.

He reached out to clasp her shoulder, and told her sincerely, “I need you to know that I am sorry _every single day_ for what happened with your parents. I will never forgive myself for sending them out there, for putting them in that situation, and most importantly, for taking them from you.”

Evelyn _tried_ , she really did, but it only took moments for her walls to crumble, and then she was breaking down in sobs. Coulson quickly stepped forward to embrace her, and the tiny part of her that had resented the man she’d always considered like a grandfather finally began to heal.

-

Bright and early a few days later, Evelyn, still yawning, was summoned to the training room by May. There hadn’t been any explanation given (not that she’d expected one), but Evelyn figured that May was just using this opportunity to see how rusty she’d gotten since they’d last sparred, and after taking some time to try and force the raw emotions back down from the surface now that her birthday was over, she was more than ready for a distraction.

Plus, she knew May was in for a surprise – Daisy had spent hours upon _hours_ working with Evelyn on her training, sharpening her skills for the field. She felt that, maybe, she might even be able to take down May herself now.

“Alright, I’m here,” Evelyn called, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth to smother another yawn. She’d always been a late sleeper (a trait given by her father, of course), but she also despised the idea of being anything but on time (like her mother). Unfortunately, the two traits were often at odds with each other, like today. “We sparring?”

May was standing in the middle of the training mats, hair tied back and workout clothes on, so the question wasn’t exactly necessary.

Or perhaps, it _was_ , given May’s answer.

“Daisy seems to think you’re ready to start in the field,” she explained, backing up a few steps until they were facing each other across the mats. “But I told her I would be the judge of that.”

Evelyn arched her eyebrows in surprise, but she didn’t even have another moment to react before May had lunged at her. “ _Whoa_!” she cried, leaping to the side to avoid being taken down. She sprung back up in an instant, ready this time to dodge May’s punch, then the following roundhouse kick.

After years of training with Daisy (and occasionally with May herself), Evelyn should’ve been able to hold her own – but it was only minutes later that she made the wrong move, tripped herself up, and then found herself with her back pressed to the mat.

“You’re unfocused,” May stated plainly as she got back to her feet and held her hands up defensively, obviously preparing for another attack.

Evelyn, however, forced herself up into a sitting position and curled her hands in frustrated fists. “Yeah, I know.”

“You won’t be allowed into the field in this shape.”

Inhaling a shuddery breath, Evelyn jumped back up, not waiting another moment before rushing right at May. In the next moment, her back was hitting the mats once more. _Hard_.

Evelyn laid there for a moment, her jaw quivering with pent-up emotion as she stared blankly at the ceiling above her. Then, May’s face came into her view as she squatted next to her. “Evelyn,” she said lowly, “you’ve been better trained than this.”

“I know,” she whispered, her bottom lip beginning to tremble as hot tears poured down the sides of her face. “I just…I’m not…I’m never going to be what they were, you know? For SHIELD, or for any of you, and…and I just feel like I’m this pale comparison and all you guys were left with but it’s not enough and – and I just wanna make them proud but –”

“And you do,” May interrupted, her tone firm and leaving no room for arguments. “You don’t need to do a damn thing to make them proud, Evelyn. Your parents were proud of you from the moment you were born, and likely even before that. Yes, they were some of the brightest minds SHIELD had, but though you _could_ , no one expects you to take that place; we expect you to make your own.”

Evelyn let out a quiet, choked sob, her eyes slipping closed as she admitted softly, “I just _miss_ them and…and I always feel lost and like I’m failing them and I don’t know what to do to fix it… I don’t…I don’t think I _can_ fix it.”

She didn’t respond at first, though knowing May, Evelyn half-expected that there wouldn’t even _be_ a response. Eventually, though, she started quietly, “I watched your parents go through hell, for _years_. There were times when they felt as you do now, felt that things were too awful, too broken to fix. But, every time, they managed to get through, to heal the wounds they’d been dealt, together.”

Of course Evelyn knew that her parents had been through terrible things (though not in great detail, no matter how many times she’d pestered Daisy for the full story), but that was just the thing, wasn’t it? “Yeah, _together_. Me? I’m just…me, alone.”

May scoffed, and taken aback, Evelyn opened her eyes to find her arching a disbelieving eyebrow down at her. “If you truly believe you’re alone, then I think you need to have another look around, Evelyn.”

-

Finally, after spending a bit of time working with May and eventually receiving her approval, Daisy had allowed Evelyn into the field with her on an “easy mission”. It was just a simple in-and-out, collecting an 084 that was said to have destructive powers.

Of course, the local government wasn’t too keen to hand it over to SHIELD (their reputation had never fully healed from the HYDRA takeover, nor the damage done during the Framework debacle), so Evelyn got to actually take down guys twice her size with _Quake_ , an honest-to-god superhero.

But, while Daisy was preoccupied taking out their big guns, Evelyn saw an opportunity to slip through the defenses and retrieve the 084. Wanting to prove herself and make Daisy (and her parents) proud, she took the opportunity, disappearing while Daisy wasn’t looking.

Keeping her ICER at the ready, Evelyn dashed through the darkened factory the soldiers had been protecting, until she caught sight of an eerie orange light in the back of the building and headed straight for it. The 084 was surprisingly small for the amount of damage it had reportedly done, oval-shaped and made of a reddish metal.

She couldn’t _wait_ to figure out how it worked.

But, first, she laid her ICER aside and pulled on a pair of gloves before carefully wrapping the 084 up in a protective cloth, just placing the object in her backpack when she heard it.

“Put your hands up!” a heavily-accented voice cried, and as Evelyn automatically complied, she twisted around to find a trio of guns pointed right at her.

Oh bloody _hell_.

If there had been only one of them, she’d _maybe_ have been able to take him out without risking getting shot, but _three_? She wasn’t _May_!

The sound of guns cocking had her squeezing her eyes shut, but a moment later, the room echoed with _their_ screams and her eyes flew back open. She found Daisy, hand up and eyes narrowed as she glowered at the men, now crumpled in a heap up against the wall.

“Thanks,” Evelyn breathed in relief, taking a couple of moments to calm the rapid beat of her heart, then finished placing the 084 in her backpack and shouldering it.

Daisy was suspiciously quiet as they fled the factory, and once they’d returned to their quinjet, Evelyn opened her mouth to ask if she was alright – but before she got the chance, Daisy answered the question for her.

“Evelyn Margaret Fitzsimmons!” She was visibly shaking, though Evelyn couldn’t tell if it was leftover concern, or a hell of a lot of anger. “I can’t _believe_ you’d…” Then she hissed out a sharp breath and muttered, “Actually, _of course_ I believe you’d sacrifice yourself like that. It’s what your parents always did, isn’t it? _God_!”

She dragged a hand over her face, and Evelyn winced, shifting awkwardly. Daisy hadn’t ever really had much reason or need to be stern with her, continuing to stay more like an aunt even after her parents had died – seeing her angry was new and strange and frankly _terrifying_.

When Daisy dropped her hand, her eyes were narrowed, but tellingly watery. “I lost _them_ because of their goddamn martyr complexes, Evelyn. I can’t lose you to it too, okay? They trusted me to take care of you, and I _won’t_ fail them again.”

It was at that moment that Evelyn _finally_ realized that she wasn’t the only person who missed her parents fiercely, who felt as though she was constantly failing them, as though she wasn’t quite living up to their memory. 

The guilt hit her _hard_ , like a brick settling low in her stomach, and she wondered why it had never occurred to her before now.

As she wordlessly strode across the space between them to wrap Daisy up in a tight hug, Evelyn told herself that it was time. She needed to finally deal with the pain and the anger and grief and try to move on, before all of it consumed her and she lost herself in it.

-

Some weeks later, the lab had been abandoned for the day, the chemicals and supplies had been put away and the lights turned off – but it wasn’t quite empty yet.

Up against the wall, nearly hidden among the lab benches and shelves, Evelyn was curled up around her folded legs. Being in the lab at night…it was different than being there during the day, when everyone was bustling around and there was always work to be done. At night, she could sit there and squint and try to imagine what it’d looked like when her parents had been alive. She could try to picture them working side-by-side at one of the benches, or bickering steadily as they moved about the room, or sharing those loving smiles they’d only had for each other from their separate work stations.

For a moment, a smile ticked up her lips at the corners –

But then the images faded, to be replaced with a cold, empty lab and an equally empty heart.

“Evie?”

Startled, Evelyn wiped away the few tears that had fallen, glancing up to find Jaxon standing in the doorway of the lab, his hair shaggier and the muscles of his arms more defined than they had been the last time she’d seen him.

“Jax?” she greeted in surprise, giving a disbelieving laugh. “What are you doing here? Aunt Daisy didn’t say anything about you coming home tonight.”

“I just got in,” he admitted, then nodded at the floor beside her. “Room for one more?”

“Yeah, of course.” She quickly scooted over to make more room for him, and Jaxon sat down with a sigh, resting his forearms on his bent knees. “Sorry I couldn’t be here for…”

Evelyn shrugged, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears she was tired of shedding and playfully nudging his shoulder with hers. “It’s alright ‘cause you’re here now.”

Jaxon smiled warmly, nudging her shoulder in return, before he asked gently, “What’s on your mind, Evie? When I came in, you seemed a million miles away.”

She released a heavy sigh, her shoulders rising and falling with it. “The usual, I suppose. I don’t know, I just…I feel like the more time passes, I’m just going to…to start forgetting them, you know? I mean, I’m trying so _hard_ to move on and heal and live my life but…but I can’t if that means forgetting them and leaving them in the past. I can’t _do_ that, Jax.”

“No one’s saying you have to,” he insisted softly. “Your parents are a part of you, of who you are, and that’s not ever going to change, is it?” When Evelyn gave a small shake of her head, he went on, “You have _fourteen years_ of memories with them, and that’s more than a lot of people get – and if I know you, you’re gonna treasure every one of them for the rest of your life.”

Evelyn cracked a tiny smile, dropping her head back gently to rest against the wall. “Yeah, I know. I just…I’d like just _one_ more memory, I guess. I don’t want to imagine that those fourteen years…that that’s all I’m ever going to get and it’s just all behind me now. I suppose it’s silly, isn’t it?”

“Naw, I don’t think so.” Jaxon went quiet for a moment, then he turned one of his hands over and held it out to her, palm-up. “Hey, I’ve got something to show you.”

Frowning, Evelyn lifted her head to peer at his offered hand, then his sincere expression. “What?” she asked warily.

“Aren’t you at all curious?” he asked, a grin playing on his lips. “I was at the Cocoon for _months_.”

“Your _powers_!” she gasped as she finally got it; she’d been so caught up in the fear of losing what she had left of her parents if she moved on, that she’d all-but forgotten _why_ Jaxon hadn’t been home. “Of course I’m curious! What are they?”

Instead of offering a verbal answer, Jaxon just arched an eyebrow and waved his open hand a bit. Rolling her eyes fondly, Evelyn sighed in exaggerated exasperation and placed her hand within his. His fingers curled more tightly around her hand, and he requested softly, “Close your eyes.”

Evelyn shot him a curious look, but she trusted him, so she did as he asked. For a moment, nothing happened, and she shifted slightly, about to accuse him of playing a joke on her. But, then, suddenly the darkness behind her eyelids was replaced with the crystal-clear image of a tiny, dark room with a screen on the back wall, and in front of it was…

 _Her parents_.

They looked far younger than she remembered them, almost like how they looked in all of Daisy’s old pictures, except this wasn’t a picture – they were talking in what Daisy had always lovingly referred to as “science speak”, something about an audio file…?

“What is _happening_?” Evelyn hissed to Jaxon, too afraid to open her eyes and allow the image to fade, but in desperate need of answers.

“I collect memories,” he explained in a whisper, “and then I can project them. Mom’s excited about the field prospects, but we both agreed that there were other important uses.”

“Then these are…”

“Mom’s memories, yeah, from the moment they met. Ever wanted to watch your parents fall in love?”

Evelyn gave a little laugh, wetness already gathering along the rims of her closed eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, squeezing his hand in overwhelming gratitude as she watched her parents with the first working prototype of what they’d then called ‘the Night-Night Gun’.

And even as the tears fell steadily down her cheeks, there was a brilliant smile on Evelyn’s face as she was given her parents back, if only for a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	25. Academy Era + Falling in Love [Jemma POV]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to ch 20; Jemma's POV of the latter half of the fic

“ _I’m sorry dear, but Leo still isn’t feeling well_.”

Jemma’s shoulders sagged in disappointment as she told Mrs. Fitz dejectedly, “Alright, thank you.” Hanging up the phone, she sighed heavily and rested her chin in her hand. She just didn’t _understand_ , because Fitz hadn’t ever passed on the chance to speak with her before, even when he’d been terribly sick with a stomach virus at the Academy. In fact, even when he’d spent the next couple of days almost constantly vomiting, she’d _been there_ for most of it (he hadn’t seemed to want her out of his sight, and had rather dramatically insisted that didn’t want to be “left alone to die”).

But, she supposed, he had his mother now, so why would he need _her_?

That thought only served to depress Jemma, even though she _knew_ she wasn’t exactly being fair – just because she was missing him and his voice and his laugh and the way he so effortlessly finished her sentences, didn’t mean he was obligated to speak to her every single day, especially when he was sick.

So, attempting to take her mind off of it for now, Jemma abandoned her seat beside the phone and left the house for the first time in what felt like _days_. Catching sight of her father trimming the hedges, she went over to join him, and he glanced up with a warm smile at her approach. “Hello dear,” he greeted, “what’s got you so down on a gorgeous day like today?”

Trying to brush it off without going into detail (she couldn’t seem to put her finger on why not talking to Fitz had her so upset, anyway), Jemma shrugged and answered simply, “Oh nothing, I just haven’t spoken to Fitz for a couple of days, that’s all.”

He hummed contemplatively, giving a few snips with his gardening shears, then admitted, “I wasn’t going to say anything, since you’ve been so content to spend your whole summer at home, on the phone with Fitz, but since you’re left without anything to do…”

When he trailed off, Jemma arched her eyebrows curiously and leaned in excitedly. “Yes?” she prompted, “What is it, Dad?”

He chuckled, lowering his shears and turning to face her completely. “Well, your uncle Vince and aunt Claire are going to be in Paris for the next few weeks, and they rang me just the other day to see if you’d be interested in joining them.”

Jemma gasped in surprised delight, practically jumping up and down as she mentally ran over the list of museums and historical sites Paris offered. “Paris has the largest science museum in all of Europe!”

Her father gave a full laugh at that, asking teasingly, “Ah, so I suppose this means you’re interested, then?”

She nodded rapidly, clasping her hands in front of her. “ _Yes_ ,” she assured him firmly.

“Alright then,” he said, nodding back toward the house, “go on and phone them, then, and start packing; their flight leaves first thing tomorrow.”

Nearly vibrating with pent-up enthusiasm, Jemma surged forward to grab her father in a quick, fierce hug, then hurried back inside to grab the phone once more. She began to dial, but stopped herself halfway through when it occurred to her that it wasn’t her aunt and uncle’s number, but _Fitz’s_.

Startled, she gazed blankly down at the receiver as she realized that her very first instinct had been to share the news with Fitz. But, he obviously wasn’t going to come to the phone now anymore than he had just twenty minutes ago.

Sighing as her happiness dimmed a bit, Jemma hung up the phone before redialing.

-

The next morning, Jemma was up bright and early, even after spending most of the previous night hurriedly packing for the trip, all while agonizing over whether she should call Fitz’s house and leave the information about her trip with his mother, or wait until they spoke personally again – she’d eventually decided on the latter, wanting to hear his response for herself.

She’d just handed her uncle Vince her suitcase to pack away in their idling cab, when she heard her mother call, “Jemma, hold on dear! I’ve got something for you!”

“I’ll be right back,” she told her aunt Claire, hurrying back up the driveway toward where her mother stood in the doorway. As she got closer, Jemma noticed that her mother was leafing through the day’s mail and holding a plain white envelope apart from the rest, and she picked up her pace when she realized that it was likely Fitz’s latest letter.

Grabbing it from her smiling mother, Jemma grinned from ear to ear as she caught sight of her own neat handwriting, detailing her name and address – she’d written several of them out for Fitz to make sure he’d actually get something posted, because if she’d left it up to him, he’d inevitably have gotten distracted during the time it’d take to retrieve an envelope and fill it out.

“Now I’ll have something to read on the plane,” Jemma told her happily, and as her mother chuckled lightly, she gave her another quick hug before hurrying back to the cab idling on the curb.

The entire journey to the airport, then during the wait for their flight, Jemma was antsy; in fact, she was looking forward to getting settled on the plane and opening Fitz’s letter more than she actually was to arriving in Paris. She even already had a crisp piece of paper and a set of pens ready to write out a response as soon as she was finished with it.

Finally, after what seemed like far longer than an hour, they’d gotten onto the plane and taken off, and as her uncle settled in for a quick nap and her aunt cracked open a half-finished paperback, Jemma peeled open the envelope and unfolded the paper inside. It was strangely creased and wrinkled, but she figured with a fond roll of her eyes that he probably hadn’t bothered to find a fresh piece of paper.

_Dear Jemma,_

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve tried, I really have, but it just won’t go away. I want things to go back to normal, ~~I want to turn back the clock and~~  well, we both know time travel is impossible, but I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that in the first place, I’m kind of a mess right now. But, it’s true, if it were possible, I’d give anything to go back in time and stop this from ever happening._

_Jemma, ~~I’m in~~ ~~I think I~~ I love you, okay? Not just like friends, even though I do, I love being your friend! But all of sudden I want to be around you all the time and – well, that’s not much different from how we usually are, is it? But it is, because now there’s this ache in my chest and I know it’s physically impossible and you’re probably having a good laugh at my expense saying ‘silly Fitz’ right about now, but it feels like my heart is honestly breaking every moment I’m not with you. That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I probably sound like some dumb romance movie, but…I don’t know._

_I’m sorry I’m rambling, I don’t really know what I’m feeling or how to explain it, and I’m likely doing a rubbish job. ~~All I know is that I love you so much I want to tear my own heart out of my chest and hand it right over to you so then maybe it’ll stop crying out for you so much~~._

_Oh Christ, I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry Jemma. I’m gonna try to forget all of this, and then things can go back to normal and we’ll go back to the Academy and spend all day in the lab fighting about the silliest things and cracking jokes in Professor Vaughn’s class until he catches wind of what we’re up to – which he won’t, of course._

_Don’t worry about any of it, okay? ‘Cause even if these stupid feelings won’t go away, I’ll still do my best to ignore them and just be your friend and you’ll never have to know. I promise, this doesn’t have to change anything._

_~~Please don’t let this change anything.~~ _

_Fitz_

By the time she’d reached the end, Jemma couldn’t quite breathe, and she was taken aback to find that her numb fingers were trembling where they were gripping the letter tightly enough to wrinkle it further. Her thoughts were racing, competing with the climbing beat of her heart inside her chest. Unable to believe what she’d just read, she scanned back over the sloppy handwriting, her mind catching on phrases like, “ _I love you, okay?”_ , and “ _I love you so much I want to tear my own heart out of my chest”_.

How long had he felt like this? How had she not _known_? Why was he choosing to tell her now? What did this mean for their friendship?

And most importantly – how did _she_ feel?

“Are you alright, dear?”

Startled out of her increasingly panicked thoughts, Jemma turned to her aunt with wide eyes, not at all sure what the answer to the deceptively simple question was.

Her aunt frowned in concern, tapping her cheek as she pointed out softly, “You’re crying, love.”

Automatically, Jemma reached up to touch her own face, and when her hand came back into her sight, she was surprised to find wetness clinging to her fingertips.

-

That night, Jemma lay in bed, wide awake. It was still early in the evening, but when her aunt and uncle had asked if she’d wanted to go out for dinner, she’d told them she wasn’t feeling well and stayed in.

She was curled up on top of the covers in their fancy hotel suite in Paris (she could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance out her window for god’s _sake_ ), but all she could think about was the fact that _Fitz_ was _in love_ _with her_.

She’d been through a rollercoaster of emotion since she’d first read that letter – afraid that his feelings would change things between them, angry with him for falling in love with her in the first place, concern for him and how long he’d likely struggled with this in silence, confusion about how it all made _her_ feel, and about a thousand other feelings she couldn’t even begin to parse out.

And as if that everything else wasn’t enough, she’d heard her cell phone ring multiple times since they’d checked into the hotel and she’d turned it back on to tell her mother they’d gotten in safely; she _knew_ that it had to be Fitz on the other line.

It wasn’t that Jemma didn’t _want_ to talk to him, because oh did she ever (she knew that he was probably going insane with worry about why she hadn’t tried to talk to him yet) – but on the other hand, how could he expect her to just be _fine_ after reading that letter?

Yes, alright, he likely needed reassurance that they would still be friends despite his feelings, and she would absolutely give it to him (because _god_ she couldn’t lose him, not for this, not for anything), but she just needed some time to process first.

Fitz would understand – it was just how she was when it came to things like this. Though, she had to admit that this was a bit different; after all, she couldn’t ever say that she’d had to come to terms with her best friend in the world being in love with her before.

Sighing heavily, Jemma squeezed her eyes shut in frustration and rolled away from the gorgeous sight of the city lit up in the night, waiting there just outside her window.

Some things were more important than Paris, apparently.

-

A few days had passed, and Jemma had finally been successfully lured out of her hotel room to spend a bit of time taking in Paris, but it still just didn’t…feel right, for some reason. She’d tried putting the Fitz situation to the back of her mind, leaving it to mull over at night (though she still hadn’t come to any kind of conclusion, much to her frustration – Fitz’s messages and e-mails only continued to add up), but still she felt strangely empty, even in one of the world’s most beautiful cities.

Her aunt and uncle could obviously tell that there was something wrong, and they seemed to have finally arrived at their last ditch effort to tempt her into a good mood, as that day they’d announced an imminent trip to the Cité des Sciences et de l'Industrie.

 _Of course_ Jemma was excited at the prospect, and she’d been nearly incapable of removing the grin from her face the entire journey to the museum. But, once inside, as she began taking in the exhibits, she found herself turning automatically discuss them with Fitz, and had to keep reminding herself that he wasn’t there.

After the fifth time, with her enthusiasm all-but gone, it hit her all at once that she didn’t _want_ to be there without Fitz, that it just wasn’t the same. In fact…she _never_ wanted another day to go by without him there beside her and that…that wasn’t normal best friend behavior, was it?

So, there Jemma was, standing in the middle of the bustling museum, groups of young children being herded past her by frazzled parents, and all she could think of was the crossed-out line of Fitz’s letter about wanting to tear his heart out and hand it over to keep it from aching. She pressed a hand to the center of her chest, where her own was positively _throbbing_ at the constant reminders that Fitz wasn’t with her, and it _finally_ occurred to her –

 _I’m in love with_ Fitz.

Feeling lighter and freer than she had in _days_ , Jemma let out a watery, disbelieving laugh, because how had she not realized before…?

She lifted her hands to cover her mouth, muffling her laughter that nearly verged on a sob as tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wondered to herself, _what do I do now?_ But, the answer was obvious.

 _Go find Fitz, of course_.

With that in mind, Jemma rushed over to where her aunt and uncle had been studying a display a bit ahead of her, conversing in low voices. As she appeared at their side with tears pouring down her face, but laughing almost wildly and grinning so widely it hurt, they exchanged worried glances.

“Jemma dear?” her uncle prompted, “Are you feeling well?”

“What’s the matter, darling?” her aunt added gently.

“Everything’s wonderful, actually.” She sniffled, absently wiping away a couple of tears as she went on matter-of-factly, “I need to leave. I need to…I have to go to Glasgow. Today. As soon as possible.”

And that was how Jemma found herself on the first available flight to Glasgow later that night, squirming anxiously in her seat the entire time and taking deep calming breaths. It was a near-constant battle not to cry yet again; now that she’d noticed it for what it truly was, her love for Fitz was so _strong_ , it threatened to completely consume her.

Oh, what a blind _fool_ she’d been.

It was pouring when she arrived in Glasgow, stepping out of the airport to catch a cab, but Jemma barely even noticed because she just needed to get to Fitz, and…and she wasn’t really sure what then – all she knew was that she had to tell him _now_ , that it couldn’t wait another moment.

And finally, she was right there on the doorstep of the cute little house he shared with his mother, and she was positively soaked through, shivering both from the rain seeping through her clothes and the nervous excitement bubbling up inside of her.

Jemma knocked on the door quickly, shifting anxiously from foot-to-foot as she waited. However, as the time seemed to stretch on and on, she was hit with a sudden, blinding moment of pure panic – was she doing the right thing?

What if they became more than friends and it ruined their incredible friendship? What if they didn’t work out, and then he never wanted to see her again? What if they ended up hating each other? What if she’d _finally_ found him, only to lose him?

Just as she contemplating dashing down the steps and fleeing before she could make a terrible mistake, the door opened, and there was Fitz, curls rumpled adorably and his eyes wide with shock and wonder at the sight of her, and Jemma _knew_ that this could never be a mistake.

So, without giving him a chance to say a word, she started speaking in stops and starts, the words torn straight from her heart (she _knew_ she should’ve planned this all out ahead of time – why hadn’t she again?).  

“Hi Fitz. I…I just…I had to see you.” Giving a little shake of her head, she laughed at the idea that she was really there doing this, really _saying_ all of this to him. “I left _Paris_ , got on the first plane here, and… I feel ridiculous, to be honest, but…” She paused there to take a breath in an attempt to steady herself, smiling through the emotion building up inside of her and threatening to choke her as she repeated the words that hadn’t left her alone since she’d read them, “I’d just as gladly tear my own heart out and hand it over to you, Fitz – if such a thing was possible. I…I’ve been so conflicted, all summer, because I wanted to be happy to be home and with my family, but all I wanted was…to be with _you_ , and I didn’t understand what it all meant until I read your letter and…and it clicked, and…”

Jemma had to force herself to stop there, cutting off her nervous rambling with a firm shake of her head. Taking another breath, her eyes briefly slipped closed as she focused solely on the love pounding through her, flooding her veins and filling her through to the tips of her fingers. It had a brilliant smile splitting her face nearly in half, and she reopened her eyes so that she could see him as she said the words her heart was crying out for her to _finally_ release.

“Oh _Fitz_ , I love you too.”

Fitz’s expression was soft, awed, as though he couldn’t believe she was truly saying all of this…but also wearing the love he felt for her right there plainly on her face for her to see and accept or reject. Jemma could help herself no longer – she reached out to grasp a fistful of his t-shirt, pulling him right out into the rain, right into a kiss.

He let out a surprised sound, muffled by the kiss, but his hands hastily came up to cradle her waist, and Jemma smiled against his lips as her fingers tangled in his wet curls.

Nothing in her life had ever felt so utterly _right_ before, and she knew that nothing ever would again – not when she’d already found right where she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	26. 2x09 Alternate Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @amozon28 over on tumblr: "If youre still taking prompts, could u do an alternative scene to what would have happened had Jemma talked first in 2x08 (2x09?) when Mack leaves fitz and her alone to talk bc the awakward silence was killing him".

The moment Mack stepped into the front of the quinjet to check on the landing gear, a tense silence descended between Fitz and Jemma, both turning away from each other to take deep, steadying breaths.

This was it, this was the moment Jemma had both hoped for and feared; after talking with Bobbi earlier that day, it had never been more clear to her that the problems between her and Fitz weren’t just going to resolve themselves, not like they used to. And so, even though their friendship had never needed them to put their feelings into words before, she was going to have to start now if she truly wanted to save what was left of it.

With that in mind, she spun back around to face Fitz at the same moment he turned back to her, and she blurted out, “I’d like to say something.”

At the same moment, however, he started, “I’ve been thinking…”

There was a beat, then it continued in much the same way, both insisting to speak first, to just get their words _out there_ (Jemma found it grimly ironic that she’d been missing the way they used to speak so effortlessly around and above and between each other, only to have it back in the worst way possible).

Finally, she managed to get out, already on the verge of tears, “I know things have been difficult between us since I got back from being undercover but I need you to understand that I didn’t leave because of what happened to you.”

“No, no, no,” he cut in, holding his hand up and waving it a bit frantically as he tried to stop the flow of her words.

However, this was _her chance_ to save whatever it was they had left – she’d already spent nine long days fearing that she’d lose it, lose _him_ , only to endure the following months where she had him back but still _didn’t_ , and she refused to let this go on any longer.

She was going to do everything she possibly could to get her best friend back before she even contemplated admitting defeat.

So, she interrupted before Fitz could continue this time, “No, you _need_ to understand, Fitz, _please_. I left because I was making you _worse_!”

He’d been trying to speak again, shaking his head and opening his mouth, but as Jemma all-but cried the words she’d been so afraid to admit out loud, blinking away the tears clinging to her lashes and throwing her hands up in frustration, he visibly froze.

Seeing that she had his attention now, for better or worse, Jemma knew she had to continue, so she explained shakily, “I left for _you_ , Fitz, don’t you understand? I mean, just look at the progress you’ve made! You’ve had the time to start healing without me hindering you, without having to consistently look to me to…to finish your sentences and…”

Swallowing thickly, Jemma wrung her hands, taking a couple of steps as she tried to gather her words and actually _give voice_ to them. “I noticed that…that you would be making progress, things would be going great, and I was so proud! Truly Fitz, I was, it made me so _happy_ for you.” She gave him a wobbly, but genuine smile that quickly faded as she went on, “But then I’d enter the room and…and when you were with _me_ , it was as though all that progress just…evaporated. You would try so _hard_ to be the person you always had been, and when you couldn’t be you’d grow so _frustrated_ and…and I was making it nearly impossible for you to figure out who you were now because you couldn’t seem to do that around me so I…I took myself out of the equation.”

She gave a watery, humorless little laugh as she brushed away a stray tear and turned back to face a stunned Fitz, his wide eyes focused right on her. She took a couple of halted, hesitant steps in his direction, her hands twitching to take his from where they hung limply at his sides. But, she curled them into fists to keep herself from touching him, no matter how desperately she felt she needed to – even though the very thought almost killed her, she had no idea if he would welcome her touch now.

“I’m so _sorry_ , Fitz,” she whispered brokenly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this before, but I knew you’d never admit it and so I…I just kept it from you, but it was all to _help_ you, you have to believe me. I’m sorry for ever hurting you or making you think that I’d given up on you – I left because I _believed_ in you and your ability to get through this, not because I thought you couldn’t.”

Finally, all the words she’d been dying to say since her return from HYDRA were out there, for him to do with as he pleased, and Jemma released a relieved breath.

“I just…I just wanted to be honest with you, finally,” she explained, self-consciously tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear. When he continued to say nothing, however, simply gaping at her as though he couldn’t believe the words that had just left her mouth, she asked tentatively, “What was it you wanted to say, Fitz?”

He blinked a couple of times, as though awakening from a particularly vivid dream. He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, then admitted, “I…um…I was gonna…uh…well…” He winced, shifting from foot-to-foot and dropping his gaze to the metal floor of the quinjet between them. “I was gonna…gonna um…tell you that – that I was…leaving the uh – the lab.”

Jemma’s heart immediately began to sink in her chest, and she clasped her hands so tightly together that her nails dug into her flesh to keep herself from crying. She’d been honest with him, told him the true reason behind her stint at HYDRA, tried everything she possibly could to fix things, yet he was still leaving.

He still wanted nothing to do with her – she’d been too late.

“Maybe…maybe uh…I’ll give – give it another go,” he finished after a moment, causing Jemma to glance up in surprise and pure, nearly blinding relief.

“Really?” she asked, her voice coming out breathy, as her lungs had been seized by the neck-breakingly quick transition from despair to cautious delight.

Fitz nodded, awkwardly stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and after a moment, they shared a shy smile. It was the first time Jemma had been on the receiving end of his smile in so _long_ , and she couldn’t help but think it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her heart was practically soaring in her chest with the fragile hope that maybe, just _maybe_ , things were finally beginning to look up.

But, of course, within twenty-four hours, that hope would be dashed and things would look worse than ever. For now, though, Jemma was content with possibly, maybe, _finally_ having her best friend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	27. One Night Stand AU pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to the one night stand AU in ch 23

“Oh my _god_! This is the cutest thing I’ve ever _seen_!”

Jemma glanced up from the line of strollers and car seats she’d been inspecting to find Daisy waving the tiniest little pink dress she’d ever laid eyes on. “ _Daisy_ ,” she sighed in fond exasperation, “It could very well be a boy. You do remember that, right?”

“Well _yeah_ , but I’ve just got this feeling,” Daisy insisted, shaking the dress once more. “Plus, all the cutest clothes are for girls, and I wanna spoil my honorary niece by buying her the biggest little baby wardrobe ever.”

“That she’ll wear for a few months before growing out of it all,” Jemma reminded her. “If you want to help, you can read up on the cribs in the next aisle and figure out which is the best in regards to safety, efficiency, and quality.”

Daisy groaned, dropping her head back dramatically. “You mean _boring_ stuff? You know, you wouldn’t be having to drag me along on all of these baby errands if you’d just _call_ Fitz and tell him he knocked you up.”

Jemma made a face, quickly turning away from Daisy and pretending to be engrossed in the product information accompanying the closest stroller. “Oh, well, I think the time for that has passed, Daisy. It’s been three months, I can’t exactly ring him now and say, ‘oh by the way, you’re going to be a father, sorry for keeping you in the dark all this time’. I mean, I don’t have a valid excuse for doing so.”

“You were _scared_ , Jem. He’s gonna understand, I promise. Fitz seems like a really good guy. I think he’d _want_ to know.” Daisy’s tone was genuine, but Jemma still couldn’t quite believe it.

Regardless, she offered Daisy a weak smile and nodded. “Yes, I know.” Unsettled by the knowing quirk of Daisy’s eyebrow, she quickly turned back to the strollers and said, “I should be done for now. After all, I do have another six months to figure this all out.”

“Alright,” Daisy agreed slowly, eyeing her speculatively for a moment. “I just need to put this adorable little dress back.”

“And I actually need to make a trip to the ladies’ room.” Jemma rubbed her bulging little baby bump with a sigh. “They’re on my bladder again.”

Daisy chuckled, patting Jemma’s arm sympathetically. “Gotcha. I’ll meet you outside then.”

With that, they briefly went their separate ways in the big-box store not far from Daisy’s apartment, though Jemma had no doubt that Daisy would somehow end up getting sidetracked by junk food or the bikini sale they’d passed on their way to the baby section.

It was a few minutes later, when Jemma was leaving the restroom, that she happened to pass through the book section on her way to the exit. She paused, perusing the small selection of maternity books the store offered. She was leafing through one she hadn’t read yet when she heard a startled call of, “Jemma?”

She whirled around at the sound of her name, and couldn’t believe her eyes when she found none other than _Fitz_ standing at the end of the aisle. His jaw was hanging slack, and his wide eyes were focused right on the baby bump very visible in her stretched t-shirt.

_Of all the people in the world to run into…_

Clearing her throat and casually replacing the book she’d been skimming, Jemma forced a smile and greeted politely, “Hello Fitz. How have you been?”

He blinked a couple of times, gaping at her incredulously. Then, finally, he seemed to find his words, though they didn’t quite form a complete thought. “What are you… How can you… I can’t… _What_?”

She chewed her bottom lip, anxiously wringing her hands in front of her. “I…I’m sorry.” It was all she could think of to say.

Fitz seemed to pale at her apology, reaching out to steady himself on the nearest shelf. “So it…it is…” He trailed off, apparently unable to verbally finish the thought, and instead gestured jerkily with his free hand toward himself.

Jemma winced, hooking her hands nervously around her neck even as she nodded slightly in answer. “Yes,” she confirmed quietly.

“Holy _shit_.” The shelf now seemed to be the only thing holding him up, and it didn’t appear to be the sturdiest surface. Worriedly, Jemma took a couple steps closer, automatically reaching out to offer support. However, Fitz absently waved it away, taking a couple of deep breaths. After a moment, he dropped his eyes to the floor between them and asked lowly, “Why didn’t you… I mean, Bobbi has my number, she would’ve given it to you.”

“She…um…she did,” Jemma admitted uncomfortably, “when I asked for it three months ago.” Fitz glanced up sharply at the admission, and she hastened to explain, “I nearly called you _dozens_ of times, you have to believe me. But, every time I went to dial your number, panic would wash over me and I was…I was afraid of what might happen, afraid that this development would be an unwelcome one. I suppose…not knowing was easier than finding out with absolute certainty that it was.”

His gaze softened at that, and he blew out a quiet breath and reluctantly released the shelf to take a step closer to her. “You shouldn’t have worried, Jemma. I mean, I know we…well, barely know each other, but I’d never do that, okay? I’m not that kind of guy.”

“I didn’t think you were,” she insisted, “but the tiny fear that I was wrong was enough to stop me from telling you. I truly am sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to keep this from you.”

With a slight smile quirking his lips, Fitz waved away her apology. “I mean, I get it, don’t worry.” Pausing there, he reached up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Are you…uh…have you made… _decisions_?”

“I’m keeping it, if that’s what you’re asking.” Jemma shifted uncomfortably, one hand automatically rising to press against her stomach.

“Okay. Okay, um…d’you…uh…know…” He trailed off, gesturing to her stomach as though that would somehow finish his sentence.

“The gender?” she guessed, and Fitz nodded gratefully. “No, not yet. I’ll be far enough along to know in a couple more weeks.”

“Ah.” Fitz awkwardly wrung his hands together, obviously searching for anything else he might need to know. “Oh! Uh, when are you, uh…due?”

“October.”  When he simply nodded, soaking the information in, Jemma cleared her throat and started uncomfortably, “Fitz…you don’t need to feel obligated, or –”

“I _don’t_!” Fitz hastily cut in to exclaim. “Trust me! I mean, yeah, this is a weird situation and I’m kinda still in shock right now, but…but it’s…it’s my kid, you know? It’s my responsibility. You don’t just abandon your kids like that.” His tone was surprisingly impassioned as he spoke the last sentence, and Jemma had feeling that there was something more than obligation behind it.

Seeing his sincerity, she smiled warmly and reached out to squeeze his arm in gratitude, though she was sure it couldn’t truly convey how relieved she was to find that Fitz wanted to be a part of their child’s life, that she would no longer have to do this all alone. “Alright. Why don’t I give you my number then? Oh, and the date and time of my next appointment.” Realizing immediately that she might’ve taken too many steps too soon, she quickly backtracked and corrected, “Well, if you want to come, that is.”

“I do,” Fitz quickly assured her, nodding. “I’ll be there, I promise.”

Jemma bit her lip to stop a huge smile from breaking through as she entered her number into his phone, along with the details of her next appointment. “We’ll be finding out the sex that day,” she explained as she handed his phone back.

Fitz’s eyes lit up and he asked excitedly, “Yeah? Good, ‘cause my mum’ll likely want to get to knitting little baby booties and blankets, and she’ll want to know whether she can cover ‘em in flowers or not.”

“I’m sure the baby wouldn’t care either way,” Jemma replied with a quiet laugh, though she was more than a bit preoccupied by the fact that Fitz was excited to tell his mother he was having a baby with a woman he’d slept with on a one night stand. Or, perhaps, she was just preoccupied by how excited he was to be having a baby in _general_. It was making her heart beat unevenly, warmth trickling from her chest out into her extremities.

“You’re probably right.” Fitz shoved his hands into his pockets and gave her a slightly awkward smile. “I’ll…uh…I’ll see you then, I guess. And feel free to call or text me if you ever need anything – I mean it, anything, even like… pickles or freshly squeezed orange juice in the middle of the night or something, and I’ll get you it.”

Jemma’s heart swelled with affection, and she couldn’t help her soft smile as she teasingly assured him, “Oh, I’ll be sure to make use of that offer then. You’ll regret making it soon enough.” Knowing that Daisy was waiting on her (even though, strangely, Jemma didn’t quite feel ready to say goodbye to Fitz), she told him, “I’ll see you soon. Goodbye, Fitz.”

“See you.” Fitz gave her a little wave, then adorably enough, he then waved to her baby bump. “And I’ll see _you_ soon, too.”

Pressing her lips together to keep from…bursting into tears or giggling uncontrollably or whatever _something_ was bubbling up in her chest, Jemma returned the wave and left the aisle, heading for the exit and to where Daisy was waiting.

Once outside, she was quick to find Daisy on a nearby bench, focused entirely on her phone. When Jemma perched on the bench beside her, though, she looked up and groaned in relief. “ _Finally_. Did it really take that long to pee? Jesus Jemma, you could’ve gone before we left my apartment you know.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at Daisy, though she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the smile plastered firmly on her lips.

“And…what’s with the goofy grin? What the hell happened, Simmons?”

As Jemma spilled the whole story to Daisy, that warmth that had permeated her whole body during her conversation with Fitz didn’t seem to be going away. And the strangest thing of all, there was a fluttering feeling in her stomach, like butterflies taking wing inside of her (though there was hardly room for them in there, what with the baby she was housing and all).

Somehow, Jemma was getting the feeling that things were going to turn out much better than she could’ve ever hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	28. Season 3B Speculation + Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written during the hiatus between 3x10 and 3x11

Jemma took deep breaths, struggling to imagine that she was breathing out her anxiety and breathing in calm, like May had told her to. It didn’t help.

In fact, her anxiety only seemed to skyrocket when she heard familiar voices, dulled by the glass separating her from them.

“I don’t know why we’re even – are you taking me to dinner?” The voice she’d had memorized for years had gone up a few octaves at the end, and Jemma pressed a hand to her mouth to hide her sudden grin.

“Not that you aren’t very pretty, mate, but I just don’t think you’re my type, yeah?”

Then, the door to the restaurant opened, and Fitz froze just inside as he caught sight of her, his hand falling away from the door and causing it nearly smack an irritated Hunter in the face.

“I got him here, Simmons, but don’t think you don’t owe me after having to listen to his constant complaining on the way here,” Hunter told her.

“Of course,” Jemma agreed, giving Hunter a grateful smile and a playful salute. Hunter rolled his eyes good-naturedly, returning the salute before leaving, heading back for the SUV they’d arrived in. Turning back to Fitz, who seemed to be staring at her in a mix of confusion and a longing he was clearly trying to hide, she cleared her throat and murmured, “Hello Fitz.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers from where they’d been studying the dress she’d nearly talked herself out of putting on just an hour before, and he sighed, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “Jemma, what…?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but it was just then that the maître d’ returned to show them to their table. Jemma was quick to follow, though she couldn’t help but notice that Fitz hesitated before doing so as well. She caught his little noise of surprise when he likely realized that the restaurant was empty, save for them, and she fought the urge to glance back and assess his expression.

The maître d’ disappeared once more after showing them to their table, and Jemma paused beside it, turning to Fitz to explain before he had any more time to stew and think it over and come up with a long list of protests and reasons why this wasn’t necessary. “I thought that…that perhaps we could have a redo,” she started nervously, wringing her hands in front of her. “Of our…our date.”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose and he quickly corrected, “That wasn’t a date, Jemma. That was just dinner, to try and make you feel better. Obviously it didn’t work, but…” He trailed off, clearly upset with himself, which only made _Jemma_ upset – it had been her that had ruined it by bursting into tears, and he’d been nothing but absolutely perfect the whole time.

However, resolved not to lose her nerve or let Fitz’s ill-placed chivalry discourage her, she gave him a small smile and said, “Alright then, if that was just dinner then this is our first date.” When Fitz looked about to protest, she hurriedly tacked on, “I mean, I did agree to it, however long ago that was, so it’s only fair.”

His eyebrows pulled together over his stormy eyes as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was never holding you to that, Jemma. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you _everything_ ,” Jemma argued softly, shaking her head. “But, regardless of that, let me be clear – this was my idea, my choice, and my decision. I want to be here, right now, on this date with you. Do you understand?”

He seemed to be struck silent by her words, even though he still looked as though he wanted to protest. Wisely, he didn’t, and just nodded mutely, stepping forward to pull out her chair for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, tucking the skirts of her dress beneath her as she sat down, watching Fitz take the seat across from her. “Fitz, there are things that I need to tell you, things that you deserved to know a long time ago.”

Fitz appeared to pale a bit at that, but nodded, his expression impassive as he steeled himself for something he surely thought he wouldn’t want to hear. “Alright.”

Feeling brave all of a sudden, Jemma reached across the table, grasping Fitz’s hand in hers and giving it a quick squeeze. “We’ve chosen to spend so many years by each other’s side, and if I had had any choice in the past couple of years, I wouldn’t have had to think twice before choosing to spend them with you once more. The problem is that I didn’t have a choice – that was taken from me, so I had to make do with what I had. I was _miserable_ without you, Fitz. You have to know that. But to survive, to keep myself from losing my sanity and any kind of will to live, I had to pretend that I was happy. I wasn’t, not even a bit, but I didn’t have any other choice. I don’t think you’ll ever truly know just how much I regret ever giving up on you. It’s a mistake I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, but one I know I’ll never make again. I believe in you, Fitz, and I also believe in _us_. I believe that what we have is something that can’t be broken; no matter how much space is forced between us, no matter what trials are thrust upon us, I trust that we can get through it. No matter what happens we will _always_ come back to each other. I truly, honestly believe that.”

It was the most Jemma had spoken in a long, long time, and she was grateful that Fitz had waited for her to finish, even though he seemed about to speak several times throughout her speech. She’d spent hours that morning, agonizing over what to say and how to say it, and was glad that she’d managed to get it all out without breaking down or losing her courage. Now that she was finished, however, Fitz let out a sigh and shook his head, and she knew without a doubt that he hadn’t understood a single thing she’d told him. “Jemma, you don’t owe me an explanation –”

“Ugh _Fitz_!” Jemma interrupted, taking her hand back in order to throw both of them up in exasperation. “Are you even listening to me?! I basically just told you that I think we’ll always be together and have an unbreakable bond –”

“I was listening!” Fitz insisted angrily. “And I agree with you! Of course we’ll always be friends and nothing can change that –”

“ _Leopold_!” she snapped, if only to get his attention and get through that stubborn, thick skull of his. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you!”

 Fitz’s jaw dropped open, an odd squeak being the only thing that escaped his now parted lips. Jemma would’ve felt quite pleased with herself if she wasn’t still so very angry with him for being too noble and good and _thick-headed_ as to realize what she’d been trying to get him to see for so long.

“Fitz, you’re my first choice – my _only_ choice. In fact, in my mind, there was never any choice to be made. It’s _you_ , and it always has been. And I promise you that it always will be.”

His bottom lip seemed to quiver just before he pressed them tight together, and he bowed his head, reaching up to swipe a hand over his face. After a long moment, he glanced back up at her, and she could see that his eyes were distinctly wet. “Jemma –”

It was at that horribly timed moment that the waitress appeared with a smile on her face and a warm, “Are you ready to order?”

Jemma gave the woman a tight smile and requested, “Can we have another few minutes?”

“Of course.”

The waitress made her exit quietly and kindly, and Jemma turned back to Fitz, unable to keep the hopeful smile tugging at her lips from showing. “You were saying?”

“Jemma, I…” Fitz sniffled a bit, sliding a hand across the table and she quickly lifted her own from her lap to meet his. His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand as he attempted to get his thoughts together. “I never thought… Well, no, I thought for awhile, but then…” Shaking his head, he let out a harsh breath, and went on, “I’ve dreamed of hearing you say those words for _so long_ , Jemma. It’s what got me through six long months of being afraid I’d never see you again, and now…” She gave his hand a supportive squeeze, waiting patiently for him to work it all out. “I just… I want you to know that I’m _so_ happy just having you in my life, in whatever capacity you’ll allow. Yes, I’m…I’m rather desperately in love with you, but if all you ever wanted was our friendship, I’d…I’d learn how to live with seeing you with someone else. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Jemma assured him, even though she kind of wanted to burst into simultaneous tears and laughter as her mind repeated ‘ _desperately in love with you_ ’ on a loop. “But you don’t have to. I don’t want anyone but you, _ever_.”

“All I’m saying is that…that I want you to be sure, and you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings or something like that,” Fitz explained, giving her a watery but sincere smile. “First and foremost, you’re my best friend.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, Jemma reached across the table with her free hand, wrapping it around the tie she’d bribed Hunter into wrangling onto him and yanking, forcing him up and closer to her as she bent halfway over the table to press her lips against his in a firm kiss. “I think we should just admit that we’re something much more, something that encompasses it all – best friends, partners, lovers. I’m beginning to think that we’re in fact _soulmates_ , Fitz. I know science says that it’s complete nonsense, but just think of the first law of thermodynamics – when I said that every part of us was once a part of something else, I don’t think I realized then just how right I was. _Wherever_ our particles came from, they were created together, part of a single being. And now, perhaps _billions_ of years later, we’ve come back together, across universes and against all odds, to finally be _whole_ again.”

She might have gone on to say more, but Fitz made the decision for her, surging across the small space between them to capture her lips in a desperate, passionate kiss. Her cheeks were wet where they pressed against his, though she couldn’t tell if was him, or her, or both of them that was crying – it hardly mattered. His free hand cupped her jaw and pulled her in closer while his other hand squeezed hers tightly.

When they parted, they were both breathing with a bit of difficulty, causing the laugh Jemma gave to come out breathy. She rested her forehead against his, leaning into the touch of his fingertips, feather-light against her cheek, wiping away the tears there. “Jemma…” he sighed, and for the first time in so very long, the smile he gave her reached his breathtaking blue eyes.

-

The rough brick of the wall was digging into her shoulder through the thin material of the shirt she was wearing, but Jemma hardly cared. A brilliant grin was shining on her face, and despite her cheeks beginning to hurt, she knew it wasn’t likely to fade anytime soon. Not when she was happier than she had been in longer than she’d care to admit.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her back against a solid chest, and Jemma leaned into the warmth, sighing contentedly. “I figured I’d find you here,” Fitz murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Sorry,” she replied softly, finding one of his hands with hers and fitting her fingers between his to lace them together. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he assured her, giving her a small squeeze. “I’ve just turned into a bit of an early riser lately. You weren’t in bed, so I knew you must be here. Though, I didn’t realize it’d be in my shirt.” Playfully, he ran a finger over the hastily done-up buttons of the shirt he’d worn to dinner last night resting over her stomach.

Chuckling, Jemma lifted her free hand to blindly stroke through his sleep-mussed curls. “Well, I have always said that your shirts are more comfortable than mine. And besides, all I had was my dress, and it was already wrinkled beyond recognition from being tossed onto the floor and remaining there all night.”

“ _Shit_. I’m sorry, Jemma,” Fitz sighed, clearly upset with himself. “I should’ve thought to hang it up or at least lay it over a chair.”

Rolling her eyes, she tilted her head back to meet his worried gaze. “Relax, Fitz, I was only teasing. I think you were rather preoccupied at the time – and I would have been _very_ disgruntled if you’d stopped in order to keep my dress from getting wrinkled.” A blush rose on her cheeks and she dropped her gaze as she admitted, “Besides, I may have only worn the dress because I was a bit… _interested_ in the idea of you taking it off of me later.”

Fitz’s arms tightened around her in response, and she glanced up in time to see his eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “Yeah?” When she nodded, coyly biting her bottom lip, he cleared his throat. “Well. I…I hope I lived up to your expectations then.”

Jemma let out a short laugh of disbelief, squeezing his hand gently. “That and more, Fitz. _Definitely_ that and more.”

He looked quite pleased with himself at her words, and Jemma leant up to press a kiss to his chin before dropping her gaze back to the window in front of them, where she could see the golden rays of the sun just rising over the horizon. It was the first sunrise she’d watched in awhile, and had known instinctively when she’d awoken that morning that it was just something that she’d needed to do. For some reason, she’d been confident that he’d follow, and now she felt she understood.

It was a truly beautiful way to begin the first day of the rest of their lives – _life_ – together, and Jemma knew without a doubt that watching the sunrise or not, she would settle for nothing less than beginning her days from now on wrapped in Fitz’s arms, safe in the knowledge that their love could do the impossible when needed, but more than that, it would always be there – unending, unchanging, unbreakable, and simply _theirs_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	29. 4x22 - Alternate Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "can I request a twist on the server from season from the finale. More of a protective Jemma 'Get your hands off of him' as AIDA goes after Fitz".

“We need to lull her into a false sense of security,” Jemma murmured, obviously deep in thought as to _how_ exactly to go about that as they paced through the lower levels of the Playground, left mostly untouched by the blast that had destroyed the rest of the base. “We need to make her believe that she’s winning, so that Coulson can get the upper hand.”

“Yeah, and how d’you suggest we do that?” Fitz asked, crossing his arms over his chest and only allowing himself a brief glance at her frustrated expression. Coulson may need them working together for now, but that didn’t mean anything had changed; no doubt, Jemma still wanted nothing to do with him, and he wasn’t going to make this any harder on her than it already was.

Jemma paused, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know, Fitz! That thing possesses a handful of the trickiest Inhuman powers we’ve ever had to combat while on their _own_ , plus the added bonus of access to all of them at once!” She heaved a long, harsh sigh, stalking down the hall to take a few minutes to breathe.

Knowing very well how Jemma worked, Fitz hung back, leaning back against the charred wall and mentally running down the list of AIDA’s various powers, and how they’d tackle each one. That wasn’t the difficult part – what was _difficult_ was trying to fight someone possessing _all_ of those powers. Jemma was absolutely right; for them to get the upper hand, AIDA would need to be lulled into a false sense of security. Somehow.

Just as he was glancing at his watch and noticing their time to come up with a plan ticking away, Fitz heard a sharp gasp from somewhere nearby, followed by a call of, “Fitz!”

Instantly, he pushed away from the wall and hurried toward the sound of her voice, terrified that AIDA had already found them, that she’d come for Jemma to try and get rid of the one thing she seemed to believe was standing between them reliving the twisted relationship they’d had in the Framework.

He went skidding into one of the damaged Inhuman containment rooms, only to find Jemma crouched over something up against the opposite wall. The relief crashed into him, and he had to close his eyes for a moment and breathe deeply to calm his racing heart.

On a second glance, though, he caught sight of a pair of legs, and his stomach turned as he wondered who else they’d lost because of _him_ , because of his mistakes and decisions.

“Jemma? Who…” He stepped cautiously closer, but once he was able to get a clear look over her shoulder, he froze on the spot and the words died on his tongue.

Jemma glanced up from the face identical to hers, her eyes wide and her brows high on her forehead. “They must’ve left it behind when they couldn’t get a complete scan of my brain.” She made a bit of a face, glancing back at the de-powered LMD. “It’s a bit…creepy, if I do say so myself.”

Fitz wanted to ask what she meant about not getting a complete scan of her brain (how had they managed a partial one? How had she gotten away?), but he didn’t think he’d like the answer, so he kept it to himself for now. “Creepy,” he repeated stiffly.

All of a sudden, she gasped once more, practically jumping up from her crouch. “Fitz! I’ve just come up with the perfect plan!”

Surprised, Fitz arched a curious brow.”Oh?”

She nodded rapidly, looking so relieved, there was a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “We know that the thing AIDA wants most is vengeance, correct?”

“Yeah?” he answered warily. “So?”

Jemma rolled her eyes, planting her hands on her hips. “Oh come on, Fitz – who does AIDA blame for not having what she did in the Framework?”

He half-raised a hand to point toward himself, but then he remembered sharply the rage AIDA had shown after he’d told her there was only room in his heart for Jemma, and her idea of a _plan_ hit him all at once. “ _No_. No, definitely not. Come on, Jemma, you’ve already been put in far too much danger because of me.”

Her eyes narrowed fiercely, her lips twisting into a frown. “It’s not…” However, she trailed off, briefly closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath. “Fitz, _I_ wouldn’t really be there.”

“What’re you…” Then, he followed her pointed gaze to the LMD behind her, and his eyebrows rose in surprised relief. “Okay, that’s…that’s a bit better. But, we’ll have to be quick – it takes a bit to program them.”

Jemma nodded in understanding, taking a couple of steps to go find the necessary supplies, but then paused. “Fitz…you need to make sure it looks good, but…you do know you can’t actually step in to help my LMD, right? She _needs_ to think she’s killed me for the plan to work.”

For a beat, he studied the concerned furrow of her brow, the face that he loved more than any other, the one he’d had memorized and held dear in his heart since he was sixteen. Then, his eyes slid over to the LMD, wearing the exact same face, one that he’d have to watch twisted in pain as she died.

The mere thought had his throat closing up and his lungs tightening in his chest, but he pushed past all of that to reply, “I know.” But, he could no longer meet her eye, not when he now had memories flashing before his eyes of the way she’d looked in the Framework, as he’d stared at her coldly and without recognition, as he’d said terrible things to her, as he’d _shot_ her and prepared to kill her.

At least this time, it would all be to save her in the end. He refused to allow any other outcome.

-

Even though he was trying not to show it, Fitz was nervous as he radioed to Daisy to let her know they were in the server room, that the trap was set and they were ready. He was afraid that it wouldn’t work, that AIDA would figure it out and find the _real_ Jemma, would hurt her or _worse_ and it would be all his fault. He _had_ to sell it; he had to do everything he could to convince AIDA that this was the real Jemma.

“Did you bolt the door?” he asked.

Jemma’s LMD scoffed. “Of course, what do you think I am?”

It was at that moment that a familiar sound echoed through the tiny room, and Fitz glanced up to find AIDA had teleported into the space between him and Jemma, as they planned.

Except, she wasn’t closing in on _Jemma_.

Taking an automatic step back from AIDA, Fitz quickly held up his hands. “Ophelia…”

“I told you Leopold,” she started, a smirk spreading across her face as she took predatory steps toward him. “We will build a life together, whether you choose me or not.”

His eyebrows darted up in complete shock, his skin growing heated and clammy as his stomach clenched painfully with fear. Vengeance against Jemma apparently _wasn’t_ at the top of AIDA’s list – it was _him_.

Even though the very last thing he wanted was to be forced back into a life he hadn’t chosen with the woman who had found something terrible inside of him and awoken it, used it to hurt and _kill_ people, Fitz couldn’t help but feel a stab of relief that AIDA was going after him rather than Jemma. Maybe, if he went with her, she’d just leave Jemma alone.

Maybe, if he was gone, Jemma could finally live her life free of the pain he always seemed to be causing her.

Jemma’s LMD, however, didn’t seem to be sharing his thoughts the way the brain she held a perfect copy of had always managed to find the words his brain was shaping at the exact same moment. “You stay away from him!” she snapped.

AIDA’s eyes narrowed into furious slits, and her head whirled around to face the LMD. “You can’t stop me. I’m taking what I deserve, what I fought to have – I want _my_ happy ending, my reward.”

“People aren’t objects you can be rewarded, you robotic psychopath!” Jemma’s LMD cried, and Fitz’s eyes rounded in horror. What was she _doing_?! “He’s a _human being_ , AIDA! You may have temporarily taken it from him, but he has choice and free will, and he already _made_ his decision. You _know_ that – or have you forgotten?”

Wait…what? How did…how did Jemma’s LMD _know_ about that? Unless…

However, Fitz had to put any impending conversations with Jemma about _that_ out of his mind, as at that moment, as furious AIDA was reaching out for his arm. If she got a good grip on him, she could take them _anywhere_.

“Get your hands off of him!” Jemma’s LMD rushed toward them all of a sudden, and he just barely caught sight of the screwdriver in her hand before she was slicing through the air with it. In the blink of an eye, though, AIDA had caught her wrist, spun the LMD around, and poised the screwdriver over her heart.

Even though he knew it wasn’t truly Jemma, Fitz’s heart automatically leapt into his throat, and he made it look good just as Jemma had told him to, no matter how much his heart ached and his throat burned with bile at the sight of the screwdriver being driven into her chest and her little face wracked with pain.

But, somehow, it _worked_ , they pulled it off, and AIDA teleported from the server room and right into their trap – only after promising to return for him after she’d killed everyone he loved in front of him, of course.

Trembling with adrenaline and fear and nearly debilitating nausea, Fitz briefly leant against the bank of servers and struggled to catch his breath. Then, he turned and caught a glimpse through the tears in his eyes of Jemma’s LMD, bloodied and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

For a moment, he was dumbfounded as he thought back on the way her LMD had put her own life on the line to save his. She had all of Jemma’s impulses and feelings and thought patterns – and most importantly, her memories. She knew how horribly it had turned out when Jemma had done much the same thing just days ago to save him from the Framework, how she’d nearly lost her life at his hands as a result. How could she possibly still decide to jump in to protect him like she had?

Shaking his head, Fitz swiped at the tears on his cheeks and decided that it hadn’t been Jemma at all; the programming they’d given her LMD had included the parameters of their plan, so she must’ve just been sticking to it.

It made much more sense, because after all, why would the _real_ Jemma want to put herself into the line of fire for him after everything he’d done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	30. 4x12 Post-Ep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written post 4x12
> 
> *Brief, non-explicit mentions of child abuse*

Jemma could remember with ease the very first time Fitz had mentioned his father to her, all the way back during the summer following their first year at the Academy. Of course she’d wondered about the lack of father whenever Fitz talked about his home life, only ever “Mum” this and “Mum” that, but no matter her issues with decorum, even Jemma had known that that wasn’t something one just bluntly _questioned_.

Finally, after six months of friendship, it had been June, and Jemma and Fitz had spent hours talking on the phone, much like they did every other day. They _both_ had gotten teased by their respective families for their tightly bound friendship (really, Jemma thought, they should’ve _known_ that what they had went far deeper than friendship), and after several calls up the stairs to hurry up off the phone and that Fitz would still be there tomorrow, her father had finally knocked on the door and reminded her that they needed to get going to her grandparents’ house. It had been Father’s Day, and they’d planned for some time to celebrate with her one living grandfather, her mother’s father.

When Jemma had breezily explained it to Fitz, hurrying to finish the conversation so as not to make them any later, Fitz had gone eerily silent on the other line. She’d prompted him several times, worried that something was wrong, and eventually he’d answered with a simple “oh”. Another pause had followed, and then he’d told her to have fun.

But, even though she’d only known him for six months, she already knew him better than she imagined she knew anyone else. She knew his expressions and his moods and his _tones_ , and she knew that something was paining him, something was tearing at his heart, and she could just tell that it had something to do with his strangely absent father.

So she’d told him softly, gently that he could talk to her if he wanted to, but he didn’t have to, she was always there for him.

There had been a shuddering breath on the other line, then another, and then the floodgates had opened and he’d tearfully spilled the whole story to her.

Jemma had curled up in her bed, pressed up against the wall and with her face buried in her pillow to hide the angry tears, to muffle the broken sobs at Fitz’s long-held, _undeserved_ pain. She’d excused herself from the party at her grandparents’ and instead stayed home, pressing the phone to her ear and listening to every painful admission of inadequacy Fitz had, whispering fiercely to him that none of it was true, balling her hands into painful fists in her sheets as she imagined what she’d say to the man that had torn her new best friend to shreds when he’d been so vulnerable.

When moonlight was peeking through her bedroom windows and she could hear her family returning to the house downstairs, she and Fitz had said their soft goodnights. With a sniffle, he’d thanked her for listening, for being there, and Jemma had made a silent promise to herself at that moment that she would spend every single second she had with Fitz working to make him believe that he was _more_ than enough.

Much to Jemma’s shame, she’d unintentionally broken that promise when she’d left for HYDRA after the pod and Fitz’s coma, and it was something she still struggled with at times, something that still plagued her when she least expected it. But, as Fitz ( _Fitz_ , the incredible, unspeakably _amazing_ man that he was) was so fond of reminding her, it was what she’d thought was best at the time, that she’d never intended to hurt him in the way she had, and that she couldn’t have known the effect it would have on him.

Since then, she’d been doing her level best to make up for it, and now that they were together, her words of admiration for him came easier, and truly Jemma had never seen his self-esteem healthier (and it was likely only partially due to their fantastic sex life).

However, with the recent stirring of the pot and reopening of old wounds thanks to _Radcliffe_ , Fitz’s self-esteem had taken a hit, his damnable father’s words coming back to haunt him, if only for a short time. He’d assured her that he was over it, that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and that he just wanted to move on. But, as they lay side-by-side in their bed, hands held loosely between them as they watched an old episode of _Dr. Who_ turned down low, she could tell it was still on his mind.

When it finally came, it was abrupt, the words spoken with no preface, no warning. “I just can’t imagine someone saying those kinds of things to a little kid, y’know?”

 Jemma turned her head to glance at him, resting her cheek on her pillow and finding him with his narrowed gaze focused on the ceiling. “I know,” she murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, stroking her thumb lovingly over his skin. “Neither can I. But he wasn’t a good person, Fitz. He was a horrible man, one who didn’t have the same values, the same _decency_ that you or I have.”

Fitz shook his head absently, letting out a frustrated sigh. “It’s just… I mean, sometimes I try to imagine that there’s some circumstance where _maybe_ it’d make sense but…but I _can’t_. I would _never_ say that stuff to my kids. _Never_.”

“I know,” Jemma repeated, her tone earnest as she reached over with her free hand to grip his between both of hers. “Because no matter how horrible your father was to you, you still became the incredible man I see before me, the man our children will be so _lucky_ to have as a father.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond with more than a vague ‘hmm’ that showed he wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, too caught up in his own head. However, then he went rigid, his eyes popping open wide as he turned to stare at her in shock, his mouth falling open in disbelief.

“What?” Jemma asked in concern and a bit of self-consciousness. “It can’t really be that shocking, can it? I mean I know we haven’t talked about it, but…” She trailed off, her anxiety rising the longer he stared blankly at her, as though she’d just started speaking in an entirely foreign language. “Oh dear,” she murmured, her cheeks heating in embarrassment, “I’ve overstepped, haven’t I?”

Wincing at her incredible inability to just talk like a _human being_ , Jemma opened her mouth to begin spouting apologies and pleas for them to forget all about her slip, but before she could get another word out, Fitz pounced.

Her gasp of surprise was muffled against his lips as he eagerly pressed her back into the mattress, his hands gripping at her waist, her hips, her face, her hair, all over her. Her own hands fluttered about, unsure for a moment at the complete one-eighty, but then his teeth tugged at her bottom lip and it dragged a moan from her, her hands finding their rightful place holding the back of his head to make sure he stayed where she wanted him.

The desperately passionate kiss went on for a long moment, and when Fitz parted from her, both of them panting for breath, she couldn’t help her little moan of loss. Fitz dropped his forehead to rest against hers, his eyes dark and intense from pupils blown wide as they stared into hers. “You wanna have my babies?” he asked, his tone filled with awe and his voice low and rough from desire.

Jemma was only human, thank you, and one of her weaknesses in life, she’d found, was Fitz’s accent when it became thicker and rougher around the edges when he was turned on (when _she_ turned him on). As such, a shudder was sent through her body at the pairing of that accent and that question, and she very nearly let her legs fall open with an enthusiastic “ _hell yes, let’s start now_ ”.

Thankfully, Jemma had managed to hang on to a _smidgen_ of self-control, so she took a deep breath and fought down the hormones and instead cupped Fitz’s beloved face between her hands. She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, tracing beneath his eyes and over his nose and around his lips as she smiled breathlessly up at him. “Of course,” she murmured sincerely. “There’s no one I’d rather start a family with, Fitz. Are you really that surprised?”

“Well…no. Maybe. Caught off-guard, I guess. You’ve never mentioned it before,” Fitz admitted, his expression becoming a bit more shy and boyish as he shrugged sheepishly, but he was no less attractive to her, no less dear to her.

“I suppose there was never a reason to mention it.” Smiling lovingly up at him, she felt her cheeks growing warm once more as she confessed quietly, “But I’ve thought about it. Perhaps more than I reasonably should.”

Fitz’s eyes fell closed, his head bowing slightly as he was overwhelmed with emotion, and Jemma lifted her head from the mattress to press a kiss to his forehead. After a moment, his voice gravely, he said, “Me too, Jem. _God_ , me too. You have no idea.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” Gently, she lifted Fitz’s head back up so that their gazes were once more locked, and she bit her lip against a ridiculously giddy smile as told him, “We’re in agreement that someday, we’re going to have beautiful, blue-eyed, curly-haired children who will take apart our microwave and build functioning rockets in our garage.”

“Hey now,” Fitz started, a frown tugging at his lips, “why can’t they be gorgeous little brown-eyed, freckled children who bring dead rats and squirrels into the house and dissect them on the kitchen counter?”

“Well I don’t know _why_ you think they’d do that,” Jemma shot back, pressing her lips together to hide her smirk as she insisted, “Any dissections they do will be proper, in a lab, where there shouldn’t _be_ food.”

“Oh not _this_ again,” Fitz groaned with more exasperation than he clearly felt, given the way his eyes were shining. “It was _lunchtime_ , which obviously meant to put away the disgusting cat livers where they belonged, _not_ drop them right on the table next to my sandwich!”

“You know I never eat lunch when I’m on a roll! Why put a groundbreaking discovery off for something as trivial as _lunch_?”

“Oh, for the love of –” He cut himself off when he leaned down capture her lips once more, kissing away anymore arguments she could’ve made (arguments she’d already made many, _many_ times over the years).

When they parted that time, Jemma let out a soft, breathless laugh. “I like having that fight so much more when it ends like _that_.”

Fitz grinned a bit guiltily, giving a chuckle as he agreed, “Me too.”

They simply gazed at each other for a moment, nothing needing to be said, but Jemma eventually broke the silence to offer quietly, “Wouldn’t it be even more perfect if they were brown-eyed, curly-haired children who build rockets and dissect squirrels? Or blue-eyed, freckled children who have their mother’s practicality and their father’s warm heart? Some kind of utterly perfect combination of half-you, half-me, as if someone took all of our genes and mixed them up in a bag, picking and choosing until they’re left with the both of us put into the most adorable little packages.”

The look on Fitz’s face just then was one she was now intimately familiar with, one that made her heart clench in her chest and her stomach twist up in delightful knots. It was a look she equated with his love for her personified, made real and tangible and visible in his eyes as they burned into her, as though it was too much for him to contain inside of himself and it had no choice but to spill out of him through his intense gaze. She honestly wasn’t sure how long he’d been directing said look at her without her notice, but she was infinitely glad that he was no longer afraid to let her see just how deeply his love for her ran, because she would _never_ get tired of that look.

“Yeah?” he questioned lowly, his voice nearly breaking on just the one word, and Jemma couldn’t find her own voice, instead nodding in answer, her gaze soft and loving and only for him. “They’ll be perfect. Incredible. The most…the most amazing little kids in the whole damn world.”

Her breath catching in her throat, Jemma shifted her hands back to hold his face between them, tears beginning to build in her eyes and a tiny smile curving her lips as she told him, “See? Not even born yet, not even _conceived_ yet, and you’re already a better father than yours could’ve ever hoped to be. You could _never_ be him, and I hope you know that, Fitz. All I want is for you to see yourself the way _I_ see you. If you could… If you could, you’d never have to wonder about being enough again.”

Fitz let out a shaky breath, and there it was, that _look_ again as he shifted his weight to rest on one arm, lifting the other to stroke the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered hoarsely, “I love you, Jemma. So _much_.”

“I love you too, Fitz.” She skimmed her hands down his neck and shoulders to his back, gently tugging at him until he lowered his weight to rest fully on top of her, their arms tightening around each other in a tender embrace. She let out a content sigh, her eyes falling closed as she turned her head to press a kiss to his temple.

No matter how many years passed, Fitz’s father was always going to be a dark mark on his past, coming back at the most inopportune times to remind him of all the awful things he’d tried to convince Fitz he was. But, no matter how many years passed, Jemma was always going to be there as well to pull Fitz back from the depths of his dark thoughts, to remind him that he was none of the things his father had called him, that he was good and warm and smart and _enough_.

And perhaps, maybe, when they someday did have their own family, when they’d left the danger in their pasts and begun a new story in Perthshire with a brood of beautiful children, he’d be able to fully put his father behind him to focus on his new family, the one that loved and appreciated him for who he was and would never dream of leaving him.

Jemma was so content, in fact, that she nearly felt herself drifting toward sleep, when Fitz suddenly shifted slightly, lifting his head to whisper near her ear, “Hey Jemma…d’you wanna start practicing for making those perfect babies?”

Even as she snorted in disbelief at his _proposition_ , Jemma already knew exactly what her response to it was going to be. She _was_ only human, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	31. Butt-Dialled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Set in a non-SHIELD AU

It was late, and Jemma knew she should’ve left the lab _ages_ ago, that right now she _should_ be at the party Daisy was throwing that she’d made Jemma double and triple _swear_ that she’d attend. But, then she’d realized just how close she was to a breakthrough, and well, everything else just kind of…faded away.

But, then, she was startled out of the fog that tended to take over her while working by the shrill sound of her phone in the otherwise still and silent lab. Surprised, she fumbled for it, nearly dropping it twice before she could lift her goggles to see the name on the screen. _Fitz_. Of course.

She indulged in a little eyeroll as she peeled off one glove to answer the phone. Fitz was her best friend in the world and had been since they were sixteen, but he was horrendous when it came to any of their other friends half the time, not quite sure how to connect with people who didn’t speak science. Likely, he was just calling to nag her into getting the hell to Daisy’s party already so he didn’t have to socialize on his own.

Really, she’d thought he was getting better about this; she’d even assumed it was gone for good when he’d started hanging out with the guys on his own.

“Fitz? I’m almost done, I promise,” she answered immediately, a sigh following her words as she looked longingly at her microscope.

Much to her confusion, she didn’t hear Fitz’s whiny response, and instead heard muffled laughter. Frowning, she pulled the phone away to peer at it, but yes, that _was_ Fitz’s name on the screen.

“Fitz?” she repeated, her brow creasing. “Are…are you there?”

 _“But seriously, mate, you’ve got to get your bloody act together_.” Jemma recognized that voice, even slurred with intoxication and muffled by distance. It was Lance Hunter, one of Fitz’s guy friends and the on-again off-again boyfriend of her friend Bobbi Morse.

 _“I know_ ,” Fitz sighed in response, and Jemma could hear just from those two words that he was also drunk, and that he was currently depressed rather than relaxed and excitable, as alcohol sometimes made him. She could also tell that he hadn’t planned to make this call, and she’d been butt-dialed.

Shaking her head in exasperation, she mentally set a reminder for herself to talk with Fitz about ways to prevent these sorts of incidents while preparing to end the call. But, then Fitz’s voice stopped her.

“ _It’s just, how d’you tell someone they’re your whole world?_ ” he asked, his tone a bit desperate and rather downtrodden.

Jemma frowned, clutching the phone a bit tighter because why hadn’t Fitz asked _her_ for advice if he had such an intense crush on someone? Why had he never even _mentioned_ it to her – his supposed best friend?

 _“Well you can start by not talkin’ like a bloody bird, Fitz_ ,” Hunter replied, clearly exasperated, and Jemma rolled her eyes at that because he really was an idiot. “ _Girls don’t wanna hear all that frilly stuff from ya, they’ll think you’re some kinda girl_.”

 _“I dunno, I think she’d appreciate somethin’ like that_ ,” Fitz argued, if a tad half-heartedly, and Jemma mentally applauded him for sticking up for himself.

 _“You’re wrong,”_ Hunter immediately disagreed, “ _Girls want a man who’ll take charge, a man that’s all action and no frills, alright?_ ”

Fitz let out an almighty sigh then. “ _I guess I’m screwed._ ”

“ _Don’t worry, mate, I’ll_ help _you get screwed._ ” Jemma made a face at Hunter’s comment, pulling the phone away to glare at it, as though Hunter could feel the heat of it through the line. She knew that she was likely going to have to pull some major damage control after this conversation, and she reasoned to herself that that was the only motivation behind her continuing to listen to this clearly private conversation.

“Hunter _,_ ” Fitz groaned, and Jemma smiled in amusement at the exasperation in his voice. “ _It’s just a stupid bloody crush, alright? I’m gonna get over it eventually._ ”

“ _Well that hasn’t worked in the past, what, eight bloody years, what makes now any different?_ ” Hunter shot back, and Jemma nearly dropped her phone because there were only a handful of people Fitz had known eight years ago that he still saw on any kind of regular basis, and she didn’t think he was carrying a torch for old Professor Vaughn, who they never could seem to get rid of.

“ _I don’t know!_ ” Fitz cried in clear frustration. “ _But she’s my best friend, and I’m not mucking that up just because I can’t seem to fall out of love with her! God Hunter, Jemma can never know, okay?_ ”

With an undignified squawk, Jemma violently hit the ‘end’ button, throwing the phone away from her as though it had burned her. For a long moment, she just stared at the deceptively innocuous phone with wide eyes, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now.

-

At some point the next morning, Jemma woke up to the sound of her phone going off on her bedside table, and she peered through burning, bleary eyes at it, wondering who the hell had decided to interrupt her much-needed sleep. She’d spent the rest of the night after leaving the lab agonizing over what the revelation of Fitz’s feelings for her meant for their friendship, which later turned into tossing and turning, and only eventually fell asleep when she’d become too exhausted to fret any longer.

Now, she reached out for her phone with a groan, blinking a couple times before checking the name on the screen. As effective as a bucket of ice water, Jemma was suddenly wide awake when she saw Fitz’s name shining back at her.

Bolting straight up in her bed, she eyed it warily, as though it was a bomb about to go off at any moment, her thoughts running a mile a minute. _What do I say to him? Should I tell him? Does he know? How the hell am I supposed to talk to my best friend now that he’s in love with me?_

Before she could figure out the answer to any of those questions, the call ended, and she breathed an audible sigh of relief. However, then it immediately picked up with another call, Fitz’s name reappearing in an instant, and Jemma huffed in annoyance because he just wasn’t going to give up – she knew him too well.

So, with a resigned sigh, she answered the call, and asked in her most grouchy, ‘don’t-trifle-with-me’ voice, “ _What_?”

The line was silent for a moment, then Fitz’s hesitant voice came through, “ _Uh…sorry. Just…um, you weren’t at the party last night, and Daisy said you never texted her to say you weren’t coming, so I was worried. But I guess you’re okay, so…sorry for bothering you._ ”

Her heart melted at the concern he had for her, and she closed her eyes with a soft sigh because it had always been obvious how much he cared for her, and she’d always felt so fortunate to have him, but now it was all polluted with the harsh reminder that he was in love with her. Had all of his care and concern just been because of his feelings for her? Was their friendship just a way for him to get close to the girl he was crushing on?

But, she knew immediately that that wasn’t the case, because Fitz was a bit slow when it came to social situations, but not _that_ slow – he wouldn’t have decided against making a move for eight years unless he thought that he had something to lose if he did.

“ _Jemma?_ ” Fitz prompted, and she realized that she’d been silent too long.

“I’m still here,” she promised, “Sorry for snapping at you. I went home straight from the lab last night, and I just had…other things on my mind.”

“ _No, no, that’s fine,_ ” he hastened to assure her, and an involuntary smile tugged at her lips. “ _I get it. So, are we still on for tonight?_ ”

Jemma swore silently as she remembered that it was Saturday, and they always spent Saturday nights eating takeout and watching movies. But, she just didn’t think she could spent time alone with him right now, not after what she’d heard last night, so she cleared her throat and stumbled through an excuse. “Oh, um, I forgot to mention, but I…well, I…” She searched desperately for some reason why she wouldn’t be able to spend that night with him, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “I have a date.”

Fitz was silent for a long moment, and she could’ve smacked herself. God, he was in love with her, and here she was, throwing some non-existent date in his face. Then, it occurred to her that he must’ve suffered in silence for the past eight years through her parade of boyfriends and flings, which she usually talked about in detail with him, and the urge to smack herself grew stronger. How often had she crushed him over the years, unknowingly putting him through such torture?

However, when he spoke up a moment later, his voice sounded deceptively normal. “ _Ah, okay. That’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow then_.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at herself, because _of course_ Sundays were when they had brunch together while discussing their latest projects, and then almost always ended up spending the rest of the day together. Why had it never occurred to her before just how unhealthy it was, the amount of time they spent together?

She was quite sure she wouldn’t have everything figured out by tomorrow, so she cringed and closed her eyes and sent a silent apology Fitz’s way as she replied breezily, “Oh, well, I think we should just skip brunch as well, because I’m quite sure the date’ll go well, if you know what I mean.”

“ _Of course I know what you mean, Jem_ ,” he answered, his tone exasperated and completely distanced from her love life, like any friend would be, and Jemma marveled at how _good_ he was at hiding how he felt. But, she reminded herself, he had had eight years to work on it. “ _That’s fine; I’ll see what Hunter’s up to, maybe Mack too._ ”

She felt an immediate surge of guilt, but forced herself to remain firm, and simply replied, “Alright, good. See you soon, Fitz.”

“ _Bye, Jem_ ,” he murmured, and there it was, just at the end of her name, the hint of softness, of affection, that she somehow had missed for almost a decade, but now was as glaringly obvious as Hunter’s _disgusting_ innuendos.

He ended the call then, but Jemma remained holding her phone to her ear for a long moment afterward.

-

Much to Jemma’s shame, it went on like that for some time. She began to dodge his calls and skip out on their plans with half-assed excuses until he just stopped trying. She felt awful and sick to her stomach each time, and the guilt only grew worse with each passing day that she didn’t see him. But, she had no bloody clue how to act around him anymore, was terrified that she was going to blurt out that she knew how he felt and it would ruin their friendship. She was scared that everything was going to change, and she couldn’t even stand the _idea_ of losing Fitz, let alone it actually _happening_.

For the first time, it occurred to her that she would be lost without him, that he’d somehow become an integral part of her life, and she just couldn’t imagine it without him.

So, for lack of a better way to deal with the truth of Fitz’s feelings, Jemma just continued to ignore him. She wasn’t proud of it, and knew it wasn’t a long-term solution, but it was working for now and that was all that mattered.

At least, it _was_ working until Bobbi showed up at her door late one night, arms crossed and an eyebrow arched accusingly.

“Bobbi,” she greeted in surprise, automatically stepping back to allow her friend into her flat. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Bobbi replied cryptically, striding into the flat and spinning back to face Jemma with her hands on her hips, her interrogation face on.

Frowning, Jemma closed the door and leaned back against it. “I…I think everything’s fine?”

“Well, then why did Fitz spend last night on my couch, drunkenly crying about how he was losing his best friend and he didn’t even know _why_?”

Jemma couldn’t help her horrified gasp as she stood up straight, her hands flying to her neck anxiously. “Oh _no_. Is he alright? _Oh_ , I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

“What _did_ you mean to happen, then?” Bobbi asked pointedly. “What’s going on, Jem?”

Groaning, Jemma lifted her hands to run her fingers through her hair in frustration, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s all just a _mess_. I just needed a bit of space to try and figure out how to deal with everything.”

“Everything?” Bobbi repeated searchingly.

With a heavy sigh, Jemma launched into an explanation, “While Fitz was at Daisy’s party, he accidentally called me, and I overheard a rather…personal conversation between him and Hunter about…about his rather intense feelings for…for _me_.”

Bobbi’s eyes widened, and her hands fell to her sides as she whispered under her breath, “ _Shit_.”

“You _knew_?!” Jemma gasped, unable to help but feel betrayed. Did _everyone_ else know?

“Of course I did! I have _eyes_ , Jemma! He worships the ground you walk on!” With a groan of her own, Bobbi ran a hand over her face. “God, no wonder you’ve pulled a disappearing act. Can’t be easy, hearing that your best friend is head over heels for you.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Jemma assured her with an exasperated sigh. “I’m just so _confused_ and suddenly I’m seeing everything so differently and…and it’s simply far too much, so it’s just easier to avoid it and…and well, unfortunately that means avoiding Fitz as well.”

Bobbi dropped her hand to give her a sympathetic look, but then she sighed and it morphed into a knowing expression. “You’re going to have to talk to him at some point, Jemma. You can continue avoiding him afterwards, but he at least deserves to know _why_.”

“Well, it’s not as if I’m angry with him, or blame him or anything!” Jemma insisted. “I’m not trying to…to _punish_ him or something. I’m just trying to come to some kind of solution.”

“You can’t quantify love,” Bobbi warned her softly, “Honey, it’s not that easy. You’re not going to wake up one day and suddenly everything will go back to the way it was. I’m sorry, but there’s only _after_.”

“I won’t accept that,” Jemma replied firmly, shaking her head in rejection of the idea. “It’ll just take some time and thought.”

Bobbi frowned in concern for a moment, silently studying Jemma, who began to squirm a bit under her gaze. Finally, she asked gently, “Have you thought about how you _feel_?”

“About what?” she asked in confusion. “I mean, I’m quite understandably shocked, and terrified of this changing everything.”

“Not about the situation,” Bobbi elaborated with a shake of her head. “About _Fitz_.”

Jemma recoiled a bit in surprise, her eyebrows darting up her forehead. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Well, now that you know how he feels, do you feel any differently about him? About your relationship?”

“Are you asking me if I have feelings for _Fitz_?” Jemma asked in disbelief, and without giving Bobbi a chance to answer, she immediately went on, “Because that’s _ridiculous_. He’s my best friend, and I’ve never thought of him as anything else. Of course, that being said, I can’t imagine my life without him, but…” She trailed off, shaking her head in frustration and spreading her hands helplessly.

Bobbi took a few steps to close the distance between them, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Hon, I’d advise that you figure it out _soon_ , and talk to him. Because even though he loves you, you’re still his best friend, and he’s just as scared to lose you. Don’t put him through this.” With that and a parting squeeze to her shoulder, Bobbi showed herself out of the flat, leaving Jemma with a whole new host of problems to struggle through.

-

It had been a week and a half since Jemma’s impromptu conversation with Bobbi, and she still hadn’t come any closer to puzzling out answers to the dozens of questions now hovering over her relationship with Fitz. He’d continued to allow her space, even if he had no idea why, and her heart was rather full with affection for him and his wordless understanding, though she was still wracked with guilt.

But, he had broken his pattern that morning, as Jemma realized when she woke up to find that she had one missed call from Fitz just an hour previous. He must’ve left a message, given the one voicemail she hadn’t had last night, but it hadn’t been prefaced or followed by any texts, so she brushed it off and decided to deal with it later.

However, then her phone rang not long after that, while she was in the shower, and she was almost disappointed when she saw that it was Daisy rather than Fitz – though she told herself that she wasn’t, and was in fact relieved even if she didn’t feel like it.

“Hello Daisy,” Jemma answered, feeling a bit ridiculous peeking out from behind her shower curtain to keep her phone dry.

“ _Jemma_ ,” Daisy started, her voice shaky and so quiet that she was nearly drowned out by the shower spray behind Jemma.

“Daisy, what’s wrong?” she demanded, beginning to feel her heartbeat pick up speed and her hands shake.

Daisy released a long, unsteady sigh, then went on, “ _I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but drop it. Just…get to the hospital.”_

Jemma immediately reached out with her free hand to shut off the water, hastily wrapping a towel around her body and stumbling out of the shower. “What happened? Is everyone okay? Are you okay?”

“ _It’s not me, it’s…it’s Fitz_.”

And that’s when Jemma’s world stopped turning.

-

Jemma had gotten dressed and driven to the hospital in a daze, and it only cleared once she burst into the waiting room and found Bobbi crying into Hunter’s shoulder and Mack pacing the room as Daisy stared blankly at the swinging doors leading further into the hospital. However, as soon as Jemma appeared, she blinked and stood, crossing the space to throw her arms around her.

“What happened?” Jemma demanded, though it came out low and broken.

“Car accident,” Daisy answered with a shuddering breath, shaking her head against Jemma’s shoulder. “He was unconscious when they found him and pretty banged up, maybe a broken arm.”

Jemma sucked in a sharp breath, pulling back to meet Daisy’s watery eyes. “How…how long ago? When did this happen?”

“I don’t know, pretty early this morning, I guess,” Daisy answered, shaking her head. “No one has any idea what happened, the police are pretty sure there was another driver involved, but they probably took off.” She clenched her jaw, her eyes temporarily blazing with hatred, but it quickly fizzled and her shoulders sagged as she whispered, “I can’t imagine how scared he must’ve been.”

“I thought you said he was unconscious,” Jemma reminded her, though she couldn’t quite believe that she’d retained any information when all she could think was of a bloody and unconscious Fitz lying somewhere in this hospital.

“Yeah, when they found him, but the doctor said he probably passed out from the pain at some point between the crash and when he was rescued,” Daisy explained, “And who knows how long that was.”

Abruptly, Jemma was reminded of the unexplained call from Fitz she’d woken up to, and the voicemail she’d yet to listen to, and her stomach filled with icy cold dread. Trying to remember to breathe, she excused herself to a nearby empty hall, and lifted her phone to her ear with a trembling hand.

“ _Hey Jem_ ,” Fitz’s shaky voice came spilling from her phone, and she raised her free hand to smother her desperate sob. “ _I…I um…don’t wanna worry you but I’m in a bit of a…jam right now and…well…I just wanted to tell you something. I…uh…well, I know you know. Don’t be mad with Bobbi, ‘cause it was Hunter that spilled the beans. I’m sorry, I never meant…it was never supposed to happen, Jemma, really. But, you’ve gotta admit that you’re pretty perfect and it’s hard_ not _to fall for you. I understand why you’ve been ignoring me, and I hope…well, I hope that eventually we’ll work everything out. I hope we’ll get the chance to. But, if we don’t, and well…even if we do, I just wanna say it once. Jemma, I lo –”_

Jemma let out a cry of distress when the voicemail cut off unexpectedly, and she yanked the phone away from her ear to scan the screen for the problem, but it simply told her that that was the end of the message, meaning that the problem had been on his end.

Ignoring the tears steadily making tracks down her cheeks, she hastily replayed the message, closing her eyes and sobbing silently at his voice – her favorite voice in the world – as it washed over her. She’d been his last thought, the last person he’d wanted to speak to, and she hadn’t even been there to pick up the damn phone. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him in weeks, and yet he’d still thought to call her in what could’ve been his last moments, and Jemma felt sick to her stomach. She’d wasted _so much time_ all because of her stupid fears. Yes, Fitz being in love with her _did_ change everything, but it was only now that Jemma realized that she was only afraid of those changes because it forced her to see the truth.

She was in love with Fitz.

-

When Jemma finally managed to tear herself away from the voicemail and return to the waiting room, she found Mack now sitting with his head in his hands, and Daisy with fresh tears on her cheeks, while Bobbi and Hunter had disappeared at some point. A bit unsurely, Jemma crossed the room to sit beside Daisy, and contemplated for a moment if she even wanted to know what had happened in the time she’d been gone.

But, Daisy took the choice away from her, turning to her with haunted eyes and reaching out to grip Jemma’s hand with her own as she explained hollowly, “Fitz’s doctor was just here. He’s…he’s in a coma, Jemma. They…they don’t if he’ll…”

Jemma wasn’t sure if Daisy ever finished that sentence, or if she just never heard the end of it because all the sound had been sucked out of her world as the very idea of Fitz being in a coma and possibly never waking from it sunk in. In fact, all she seemed to be able to remember after that moment was the sight of Daisy’s chipped blue nail polish, glaring against Jemma’s pale skin. It was a shade of dark blue that she couldn’t bring herself to wear, let alone _look_ at, for _months_ afterward.

-

Nine agonizing days later, his coma finally broke, and even though Jemma had told Daisy just hours earlier that she was all cried out, she broke into relieved tears as his eyes opened and met hers, and he mumbled out a soft, broken, “ _Jemma_.”

Of course, she was promptly kicked out by the doctors and nurses, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care, because he was _alive_. Fitz was _alive_ , and she was never going to let another moment pass without him by her side.

After what seemed like hours, Jemma was allowed back into the room (and the others so graciously offered to let her see him first; though she hadn’t told anyone what she’d realized, she assumed that they all somehow knew anyway), and when she laid eyes upon Fitz, sitting up in the hospital bed and with a little color back in his cheeks, she nearly burst into tears again. “ _Fitz_ ,” she sighed lovingly, snatching up the hand of his not in a sling and pressing it against her cheek as she perched on the edge of his bed. “Don’t _ever_ scare me like that again.”

He was staring up at her in awe, his mouth hanging open a bit, and Jemma just _knew_ that he probably thought she hated him for his feelings, and perhaps her avoidance of him hadn’t been sending the right messages, but she promised herself that she’d set him straight soon enough. After a moment, he cleared his throat and replied almost evenly, “I’ll try, Jem. Sorry for scaring you.”

“You should be.” A little bit of anger bubbled up, and she freed one hand to give his shoulder a little shove. “What the hell were you thinking, leaving me some sort of _goodbye_ message? My _god_ , Leopold, what was I supposed to think?”

He winced a bit at her use of his first name, but wisely didn’t object, and instead gave her a sheepish look. “I wasn’t really…thinkin’ at the time. I mean, I _was_ concussed.” He gestured toward his head with his other hand, made awkward by his sling and broken arm.

“Don’t joke about that,” Jemma snapped, and he immediately looked remorseful. He opened his mouth, likely to apologize again, but she beat him to it, blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

Fitz’s face screwed up in confusion, and he tilted his head. “For…what?”

“For…for ignoring you and freaking out about something that isn’t even your fault, for making you suffer when you didn’t deserve to, for being a blind idiot, really, you can take your pick.” His mouth was hanging open in a gape, and Jemma gave a little sniffle as she added tearfully, “I never would’ve forgiven myself if I’d spent so long pushing you away and then _lost_ you. I’ve wasted all this time, and for no good reason. I’m _so_ sorry, Fitz. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Jemma…” Fitz trailed off, shaking his head slowly in dazed disbelief. “Jem, there’s nothing _to_ forgive. You had every right to avoid and ignore and push me away. I made everything weird with my…my _stupid_ _feelings_ ,” he spat the words out as though they were something awful, and she flinched slightly. “It’s all my fault.”

“No,” Jemma argued instantly, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

“I’m supposed to be your best friend, for god’s sake, I’m not supposed to be putting you into these situations –”

“You’re more than that,” she interrupted, desperate to make him see what she’d only just realized and come to terms with.

Fitz immediately stopped talking, his brow furrowing in confusion. “More than…what?”

Jemma fought the urge to roll her eyes and reminded herself that he _had_ just woken from a coma after sustaining a serious concussion. He got a pass _just this once_. “More than my best friend, silly.” When he once more gaped wordlessly at her, she gave an affectionate little sigh and explained, “I only just realized it as I was listening to that message, because suddenly there was the very real possibility that you’d no longer be in my life and…and I just couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine what I was possibly supposed to do without you. I’ve missed you to the point of ridiculousness these past few weeks, and well…that’s just not normal best friend etiquette, is it? My life without you is…well, it’s just…empty. And I know now that it’s because I’m in love with you too, Fitz. I’m sorry I was so…thickheaded in figuring it out.”

He stared at her in shock for another long moment before he stuttered out, “You…you don’t have to…to say that…just ‘cause…‘cause of how I feel. We can forget I ever said anything, we can go back –”

“I don’t want to forget, and I don’t want to go back,” Jemma assured him firmly, a little smile tugging at her lips. “I want to remember and I want to go _forward_. I want us to…to be together. If that’s what you still want.” She hastily tacked on the last part, because there was still that niggling doubt that he’d changed his mind at some point during her unintended cold shoulder.

“Of course I do,” Fitz hastened to reply. “But, I just…wanna know if _you’re_ sure it’s what you want.”

This time, Jemma couldn’t suppress her eye-roll, or her groan of, “ _Ugh_ Fitz! Isn’t that what I just said? _Multiple times_? Honestly, how thick can you be? You’re supposed to be a _genius_ , for god’s sake!”

“Hey!” he cried, but it was half-hearted and teasing, and there was an awed little smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the one who took eight years and a coma to figure out what I knew from the moment I met you.”

Jemma’s expression softened, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I guess you’ll have to forgive my social incompetence just this once.”

Fitz made a show of thinking it over, but after a brief moment, he replied softly, “For you? Anything.”

With that, Jemma leaned in to fit her lips against Fitz’s for the first time, and she couldn’t believe that she’d ever been afraid of something that could feel so utterly _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	32. 4x01 AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @fitzsimmonsftw on tumblr: "could you do a 4x01 AU where Jemma goes to Radcliffes with Fitz?"

As Fitz reached out to ring the doorbell, Jemma shifted the bottles of beer in her grip so that she could take a quick look at her phone. Thankfully, however, nothing too urgent seemed to happening back at the Playground.

“You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes since we left the base,” Fitz pointed out, seeming a bit exasperated, and perhaps disappointed. “You know, if you wanted to stay and work, you could’ve just said so.”

Jemma scoffed, turning to face him and arching an eyebrow. “Fitz, the very last thing I _want_ is to spend more of my time working.” Smiling softly, she purposefully slid her phone back into her pocket. “I’m done for now, I promise; I’m all yours.”

He returned the smile, and she thought to herself that she’d throw her new position and all of its duties to hell, if only to see that smile lighting up the face she loved so dearly.

They both turned when the door opened then, revealing Radcliffe stepping back to let them inside. “Hey, just in time,” he said by way of greeting, “they’re just taking to the pitch.”

“Oh, good,” Fitz commented as he and Jemma set the six packs they were carrying down on the counter, leading the way over to the couch as he removed his jacket.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Radcliffe told them with a wave of his hand, “I’m just finishing cleaning up.”

Jemma took a seat on the couch as Fitz grabbed a handful of nuts from a bowl on the coffee table, rolling her eyes fondly as he tossed one into his mouth and fist-pumped.

“Should be pretty lopsided, don’t you think?” Fitz commented, nodding toward the game playing on the large flat screen. “Their keeper’s absolutely crap – oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

Startled at Fitz’s sudden apology as he dropped haphazardly onto the couch beside her, Jemma glanced up, her eyebrows darting up her forehead as she glimpsed a naked woman standing unashamedly a few feet away.

Hastily dropping her gaze, Jemma winced and told the woman apologetically, “Truly, we had no idea there was someone here.” To Fitz, she hissed under her breath, “He _knew_ we were coming over, right?”

“Hello,” the woman greeted, sounding strangely relaxed for someone walking around strangers while in the nude.

At that moment, Radcliffe hurried back out. “You…you weren’t meant to see that.”

“Hello, I’m glad to finally –” the woman cut herself off, then repeated, “Hello, I’m glad to finally –”

Confused, Jemma peered over to find Radcliffe fiddling with a robe. “Fitzsimmons, meet AIDA.”

“Hello, I’m glad to finally –”

Radcliffe gave them a bit of an amused smile and explained, “She’s, uh, crashed,” as he covered her with the robe. As the truth of what this woman was sunk in, Jemma exchanged a wide-eyed glance with an equally stunned Fitz, both of them turning to gape at AIDA as she repeated the same thing over and over until Radcliffe picked up a remote of some kind and powered her down.

“What the hell?” Fitz finally asked, speaking the same words Jemma currently had running through her brain.

“Well, I just upped her PSU to compensate for image processing,” Radcliffe explained, “Must’ve overcranked it. I’ll reboot.”

“Uh-uh, no, that’s not what I meant.”

Before Fitz could go on, though, Jemma cut in to tell Radcliffe firmly, “Shut it down.”

Radcliffe’s eyes grew wide, and he hurried to explain himself, “Simmons, wait, you don’t understand – this has been a lifelong dream of mine. When I saw the work you two were doing in replicating human tissue and internal bone structure in Coulson’s hand, I knew…I knew right then that this was within reach. But, I need your help, both of you, to perfect her before SHIELD –”

Not allowing him to finish, though, Jemma stood up, folding her arms across her chest. “Shut it _down_. You don’t _have_ any more time; I receive lie detection tests, and my next one is in just a few days, where I’ll have to report this – and even if I didn’t, it is still my duty to report you for breaking the rules stipulated in your pardon.”

Beginning to look truly desperate now, Radcliffe waved his hands at her, pointing out, “But you have a few days, if we just –”

“We won’t lie to our organization for you,” Fitz told him, standing as well and planting his hands on his hips. “You know you aren’t allowed to experiment without approval or oversight.”

“But you two aren’t _understanding_!” he insisted. “If we can get the LMD program up and running, we could save so many _lives_. With all of the friends you’ve lost, friends like Lincoln Campbell and Antoine Triplett, you must see –”

“That’s quite enough,” Jemma said sharply, blinking rapidly for a few moments as her mind’s eye flashed back to the fragments of Trip being pushed along in that wheelbarrow, to watching Daisy fall apart before their eyes as Lincoln gave his life on that quinjet.

However, as she shook away the memories that still tore at her heart as fiercely as they did when she’d experienced them, she noticed that Fitz was peering at her speculatively.

“What?” she asked him under her breath.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, idly scratching at his stubbled chin, then he leaned in closer to her and whispered, “We could at least give it a try.”

Jemma quickly leaned back to gape at him, completely and utterly taken aback that he could _possibly_ think it was even remotely a good idea. She opened her mouth to say as much to him, but she only managed to get out, “How could you possibly –” before he was interrupting her.

“If it works, you’ll never have to be in danger again.” He said the words with such conviction, the overwhelming love and concern he had for her written plainly in his eyes.

Jemma’s stern expression softened, and without giving Radcliffe another glance, she grasped Fitz’s hand and excused them, leading him into another room. Once the door had been closed behind them, she reminded him gently, “Fitz, being in danger is a part of the deal when you sign up for SHIELD – we both knew that going in. And given all of the terrible things we’ve been through, I’d imagine we understand even better now the risks that are involved with our line of work.”

“But what if there didn’t have to be risks?” Fitz pointed out, clearly clinging to the idea now that it had been presented to him. “With LMDs, we could help save the world, but never have to be put into another dangerous situation.” His voice grew soft as he added, “And I’d never have to worry about losing you again.”

Jemma sighed softly, lifting a hand to absently stroke his cheek, and she could tell just by looking into his eyes that he wasn’t going to give up. After all of their years spent side-by-side, she knew how to read Fitz better than anyone, and she could see that he _had_ to see this through; he had to try and perfect the program. So, grudgingly, she said, “We have until my next test, at which point we’ll have to come clean with whatever we have by that time to Director Mace.”

“Deal,” he agreed readily, catching her hand and giving it a grateful squeeze.

At that moment, Jemma’s phone chimed with an alert, and with a tired sigh, she removed it from her pocket and scanned the information on the screen. Immediately, her eyes narrowed, and without looking up, she told Fitz, “I need to do some damage control.”

Understanding that she needed a moment to handle classified information, Fitz squeezed her hand once more before releasing it, heading out the door. “I’ll go tell Radcliffe the good news then.”

A handful of minutes later, Jemma rejoined them, emotionally exhausted after her conversation with May. She’d known when she’d taken a position so close to the director that there would be questions, but she’d hoped that the trust that their friends had in her, after everything they’d been through together, wouldn’t be so fragile.

But, she supposed, such was the life of a SHIELD agent.

Upon catching sight of Fitz excitedly discussing the details with Radcliffe, though, Jemma began to perk back up a bit at the familiar spark for a new project, for tackling a new challenge that had been placed before him, in Fitz’s eyes. It often brought her back to their days at the Academy, when they were just beginning to work together and truly uncover the depths of their combined brain power, when they both only grew more and more excited as they discussed all the experiments and projects they could take on together.

Noticing her quiet reentrance, Radcliffe turned to her with a beaming grin. “Thank you, Simmons. Truly. You won’t regret this.”

As he began to walk a powered-up AIDA back to his workspace, Jemma called after him, “See that I don’t.”

Fitz stepped forward until they were face-to-face, offering her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Jemma shook her head. “I understand, Fitz; it truly could be an investment for SHIELD’s future, if done right. And besides, I trust any project with your hands in it.” As she said the words, she found his hands with hers, stroking her thumbs over his palms. Smiling warmly up at him, she went on, “As long as we’re working together, on the same page and still refusing to allow anything to come between us…well, then we’ll be able to get through any challenge, big or small.”

Leaning forward to drop a kiss on her forehead, Fitz agreed, his voice soft but contradictorily firm, “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	33. Pregnant Jemma + Fitz on a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompts: "jemma is pregnant and fitz leaves on a mission, and she's all worried about him, and maybe the team is trying to comfort her?" and "fitz is away on a mission while jemma is pregnant and she's all worried. Then, the team (but mainly Daisy) starts coming in with all of these crazy ideas on how to make her feel better".

“How do you think she’s doing?” Mack asked in a hushed voice, crossing his arms over his broad chest and nodding in the direction of the kitchen. Jemma’s back was to them where she sat at the island, bent over a tablet and seemingly quite focused on whatever was on the screen.

“How do you think _you’d_ be doing if you were six months pregnant and _your_ husband had just left on a potentially dangerous mission?” Daisy hissed back under her breath, arching her eyebrows pointedly.

Mack held up a hand to placate her, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Alright, alright, I get it. But, other than getting that quinjet to turn around and bring Fitz back, what can we do?” He glanced around, but when Coulson shrugged helplessly and May simply shook her head, he turned to Daisy.

“We need to…” Daisy pursed her lips as she thought it over, darting a glance back over at Jemma to see her shoulders shaking just slightly. What could possibly hold Jemma’s attention long enough to get her to stop worrying about Fitz? “Oh! We need to come up with something _really_ crazy that’ll keep her mind off of the mission!”

“You…really think that’ll work?” Mack asked skeptically.

“Well, it’s _something_ , at least.” Daisy gave him an unsubtle push in Jemma’s direction. “Just _go_ , okay?”

Mack glanced back over his shoulder at her, clearly taken aback. “What? _Me_? I don’t –”

“Just say the first thing that comes to mind!” She gave him another helpful push then, and watched as he stumbled his way over to Jemma, his voice carrying back over to where they waited impatiently.

“Hey Simmons,” he greeted a bit awkwardly, “do you want to…uh…” He glanced around for inspiration, rubbing at the back of his neck, before finishing hurriedly, “help me work on my bike?”

Daisy groaned silently, dragging a hand over her face as Mack gave her a feeble, apologetic shrug. Jemma didn’t even look up from her tablet as she replied quietly, “Not today Mack, but thank you for the offer.”

“Uh yeah, sure.” He lingered another moment, clearly unsure what to do, before simply returning to where the others were waiting.

“What the hell was _that_?” Daisy hissed at him in complete disbelief, giving him a little shove (that barely seemed to affect him, of course) for good measure. “Working on your _bike_? That’s the craziest thing you could come up with?”

“I was on the spot!” he reminded her defensively.

Daisy rolled her eyes, then turned to Coulson. “Please, tell me you’ve got something a bit more inventive than that.”

Coulson shrugged one shoulder as he replied, “I may.” And with that, he crossed the room to join Jemma, leaning back against the island next to her to ask, “Simmons, how would you like to come take a look at some of my vintage collectables? I might even have some Peggy Carter memorabilia to show you.”

Jemma gave a little shake of her head as she murmured, “Thank you sir, but not right now.”

“Alright then.” With an apologetic smile on his face, Coulson rejoined them. “Perhaps I don’t have anything, after all.”

“Looking at your ‘vintage collectables’?” Daisy repeated incredulously. “Coulson, we’re trying to _keep_ her from crying, not bore her to tears!” Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath, “Amateurs,” and stalked over to Jemma herself.

As she got closer, she could finally see that what held Jemma’s attention so completely was the GPS coordinates from the quinjet Fitz was on, along with the list of updates they were periodically sending in.  

Taking a deep breath and straightening up, Daisy forced a heaping amount of cheer into her voice as she asked, “Alright Simmons, what d’you wanna do? Do you could bake a seven-layer cake or go to Disney World or hack into a government satellite to check on Fitz or –”

“Actually, you can’t do that,” Coulson quickly cut in, and when Daisy glanced over her shoulder, he was shaking his head and holding up his hands, looking quite concerned.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Daisy peered down at Jemma, who hadn’t given any visible reaction to her list of insane, nearly impossible suggestions. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the island until she was at eye-level with her. “C’mon Jemma, you’ve got to give me something here; I’m not going to just sit around and watch you cry all day. What kind of friend would I be then? And like…Fitz would probably kill me, to be honest.”

Finally, Jemma turned from her tablet to reveal her eyes shining with tears and her wobbly attempt at a smile. “Thank you for trying, Daisy, but I’m really just emotional because of the pregnancy.” She dropped one hand to pat her bulging baby bump lovingly. “I’ll be fine.”

Daisy didn’t believe it for a second, of course – and even if she had, she was their baby’s godmother; she _had_ to take care of Jemma and the baby while Fitz wasn’t there, even if that just meant keeping her from worrying over Fitz’s safety. It was in the contract or something, she was sure of it.

So, with that in mind, she tried again. “ _Or_ , I could sneak you back into the lab when no one’s looking, or at least try and get you some chemicals for experimenting.”

Almost immediately, there was a chorus of firm ‘ _no_ ’s from behind her, and Daisy held back her strong desire to remind them that she wasn’t actually going to _do_ it – Jemma had been kicked out of the lab for a reason, and Daisy wasn’t going to be the one who brought unsafe chemicals around her unborn godchild, thank you very much.

Instead, she released a frustrated sigh, watching through narrowed eyes as Jemma’s bottom lip began to tremble, her hand shaking where it was still pressed against her stomach. It was at that moment that the solution finally hit her, and she gasped in excitement, straightening up from her lean. “I’ll be right back; don’t move!”

She rushed out of the room, brushing past Mack, May, and Coulson and hurrying down the halls until she’d reached her bunk. Once inside, she grasped her laptop, then began the dash back to the kitchen, where she set the laptop down on the island beside Jemma. She opened it up, clicking through until she’d found what she wanted, then spent a couple of minutes typing rapidly.

Finally, she finished with one last keystroke, then turned the screen to face Jemma and said loudly, “Alright, we’re only taking up a second of your time – Fitz, tell your wife that you’re going to be fine.”

Though it was crackling with static, Fitz’s voice answered after a moment, “ _Of course I’m going to be fine – s’what I told you, isn’t it, Jem? I promised you I’d be careful._ ”

Jemma sniffled, managing to give Daisy a tremulous smile as she replied, “I know, I _know_ , Fitz, but…but I can’t help but worry. I’m not there to…to protect you or make sure you’re alright, or…”

At that moment, Piper spoke up. “ _Don’t worry Simmons; we’ve got Fitz. He’s in good hands, okay? We’ll return him home safe and sound as soon as possible_.”

“ _Did you hear that?_ ” Fitz asked Jemma gently, “ _I’m gonna be home, in one piece, before you know it. So, stop worrying about me – it’s not good for the baby._ ”

“I’ll try,” Jemma promised softly, “I love you, Fitz.”

“ _I love you too, Jemma_.”

The connection cut out then with a garble of static, and Jemma turned to Daisy with the first _real_ smile she’d seen on her friend’s face since Fitz had been called onto the mission that morning. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“It was nothing,” Daisy insisted, brushing off the gratitude with a smile of her own. “Y’know, if you want to take your mind off of the mission for the rest of the day, we can go out and do whatever you want. Everything’s game: roller skating, skydiving, bungee jumping –”

With a laugh, Jemma cut off her list of clearly ridiculous ideas there. “Perhaps we could just watch a movie in the common room instead?”

“Oh _fine_ ,” she agreed mock-grudgingly, a relieved grin tugging at her lips.

And later that night, the common room was where Fitz found them, Daisy flicking through the channels absently with Jemma curled up on the other end of the couch, fast asleep (much the same as she had been since roughly twenty minutes into their second movie).

 “Hey, you’re home,” Daisy greeted quietly, twisting to smile at him over the back of the couch.

“Yeah,” Fitz murmured, moving to kneel down beside Jemma and brushing back a couple of strands of her hair that had fallen across her face. He leaned in to press a gentle, loving kiss to her forehead, then he turned to Daisy and asked in concern, “How was she?”

“Oh, I had it covered; it was all good,” she assured him with an easy grin.

Fitz smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Daisy.”

Daisy scoffed lightly, waving away his gratitude as she insisted, “It was nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	34. Fake Dating AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "fs + 'The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop'".
> 
> *Set in a non-SHIELD AU

_Hey Jemma! How have things been? I’m going to be in town this weekend, and I thought it’d be nice to catch up a bit._

With wide, horrified eyes, Jemma scanned the relatively simple text a couple more times before releasing a groan and burying her face in her pillow.

It had been almost a year and a half since she and Isaac had mutually decided to break up; his company had transferred him to another branch halfway across the country, and they’d agreed that keeping up the relationship long distance wasn’t what either of them had wanted at the time. Before the break-up, however, they’d been going strong, and it was the last serious relationship she’d had – but, she kept up with him on social media, and she knew that _he_ had a gorgeous new girlfriend.

Of course, when the subject arose, she could just tell him that she’d been focusing on work, or was simply uninterested in a relationship at the moment – she could even respond to his text by telling him that she was too busy to meet up at the moment, even though it was a blatant lie.

But, they truly had had a wonderful relationship, even if it hadn’t lasted long, and she didn’t want to miss an opportunity to catch up with an old friend just because she was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since theirs ended (or because she was afraid that he’d think she was still into him, which was infinitely _worse_ ).

So, what was she to do, then?

Sighing in indecision, Jemma rolled over onto her side, where her gaze landed on her nightstand. There, sitting beside her alarm clock, was the framed picture she and Fitz had taken together on their trip to Peru last summer, wide grins plastered on their faces.

Inspiration hit her like a lightning strike, and she sat up with a gasp. _Of course_ – she could tell Isaac that _Fitz_ was her boyfriend! It was believable enough; they were both conventionally attractive, and had spent the better part of the past ten years at each other’s side, so they were obviously compatible. With anyone else, it’d be practically inevitable that friendship would turn to romance, and Isaac didn’t have to know that she and Fitz were the exception.

Beaming in excitement and relief, Jemma quickly texted him back.

_Hi Isaac! I’ve been quite good, thank you. I’d love to catch up! I can’t wait to hear about this girlfriend you’re always talking about – and I’ll tell you all about my new relationship as well, of course. Do you remember Fitz?_

Letting out a content sigh, Jemma dropped back to the mattress, already planning on the best way to break it to Fitz that she was going to pretend, just for a little while, that they were dating. Surely, he’d be alright with it, even if he put up a bit of a struggle at first; it was of no consequence to him, really, not when Isaac still lived thousands of miles away.

But, then, she received a response from Isaac, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets (well, alright, not nearly – that was physically impossible).

_Wait wait wait – you and Fitz?? Okay, this I have to see – I’ll invite Erica and you bring Fitz and we’ll make it a double date!_

Oh no. Oh _no_.

 _Shit_.

-

“You want me to _what_?”

Jemma winced, glancing around the cafeteria to make sure his exclamation hadn’t drawn too much attention; perhaps, asking him for his help during their lunch break from work wasn’t the best of plans. “It’s not that big of a deal, Fitz!” she insisted, clasping her hands beneath her chin and giving him a pleading look. “I _can’t_ go to dinner with Isaac and his girlfriend and show up without you now!”

“But _me_?” Fitz gestured toward himself incredulously, his eyes widened. “Why would you even… The whole reason he’s expecting me is because _you_ told him we were dating – why the _hell_ would you do that, Simmons?!”

She sighed in exasperation, holding her hands out helplessly. “I don’t _know_! I just saw the picture of us on my nightstand and it was the only idea I could come up with and…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Look, that doesn’t matter anymore; what matters is the fact that he’s expecting you to come to dinner with us.”

Fitz groaned, sagging a bit in his seat and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Why don’t you tell him I’m just…I don’t know, busy or something? Working late or…maybe I died in a freak lab accident?” When Jemma shot him a disapproving glare, he shrugged. “What? It could happen!”

“ _Fitz_ , please, I need your help on this.” She reached across the table to lay her hand over his, giving him a pleading look. “I promise, I’ll _never_ ask you to pretend to be my boyfriend ever again. Just tomorrow night, and then you’ll never even _hear_ me say the word ‘boyfriend’ around you again.”

He made a strange face then, but he quickly dropped his gaze to his lap before she could try and figure it out. His shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, then he gave a jerky nod. “Alright. Alright, fine, _just this once_.”

Jemma let out a little squeal of excitement, jumping up from her seat and hurrying around the table to grab him in a tight hug. “Oh _thank you_ , Fitz! You’re the absolute best, truly! I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

“Alright, yes, I’m a wonderful pushover, I understand,” Fitz grumbled, though Jemma could tell that he was acting more bothered than he actually was.

She released him from the hug, but didn’t step back completely until after she’d pressed a quick kiss of gratitude to his cheek. “You really are a pushover, aren’t you?” she teased as he pointedly wiped his cheek with his sleeve. “Fortunately for you, your secret’s safe with me.”

Fitz gave her a small smile, looking a bit weary all of a sudden. “Yeah, fortunately.”

-

The next night, Jemma found herself at a table in an expensive restaurant, sitting next to Fitz and across from Isaac and his girlfriend, Erica.

And things weren’t going well. At _all_.

They’d only been there for twenty minutes or so, and even though Fitz’s arm was around the back of Jemma’s chair and they were sitting close together, she could just _tell_ that Isaac was suspicious. His sharp, narrowed eyes kept darting between them, even as he kept up the congenial conversation; she knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t completely buying the fake relationship she and Fitz were trying to sell (which, truthfully, seemed a bit absurd – strangers always seemed to think she and Fitz were dating when they very much _weren’t_ pretending to be).

“So,” Isaac started casually, “how did you two even go about getting together? I seem to remember that, despite being the closest pair of best friends I’ve ever seen, you were vehement about _just_ being friends.”

Jemma shifted a bit nervously in her chair, but she’d prepared _extensively_ for this, so she hurriedly began to recite her pre-planned story, “Oh, well, about six months ago, on the twelfth of October – I remember because I had a dentist appointment the day before – Fitz and I went out, like we always do on Friday nights. We each had two and a half beers, which is enough alcohol to get the average person tipsy, and when we got back to his apartment at twelve thirty, Fitz kissed me. It was a complete surprise, of course, but then I kissed him back, and the rest is history.”

She heard Fitz let out a quiet groan next to her, and saw Isaac arch an eyebrow as he said flatly, “Uh- _huh_.”

Beginning to panic a bit, Jemma cleared her throat and said hurriedly, “Would you excuse us for a moment? I just need to talk to Fitz about something.” Without waiting for a response, she stood up, grasping Fitz’s hand and leading him through the relatively crowded restaurant to the empty hallway leading to the restrooms.

“He doesn’t believe us!” she hissed in distress, hooking her hands around her neck.

Fitz snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What? How on earth could that be _possible_ after that wonderfully detailed account of our first kiss?”

Jemma scowled, shoving his shoulder angrily. “ _Fitz_! Would you take this seriously, please?”

“I am!” he insisted defensively.

“We need to _sell_ it,” she explained, planting her hands on her hips and frowning in concentration. “We need to do something that’ll make it _impossible_ for him to believe anything but that we’re completely in love.”

“And how do you plan to accomplish that?” Fitz asked skeptically.

Jemma gave it another moment of thought, then she gasped as it hit her. “Of _course_! Fitz, we can’t just _tell_ him we’ve kissed – we have to actually kiss _in front of him_!” When his eyes widened, she hastily added, “I promise, I’ll make it up to you – I’ll even make you your favorite sandwich! For a week _straight_!”

He took a physical step back, looking a bit pale as he dragged a hand over his face. “Jemma…”

Concern began to build inside of her as she asked, “Fitz, is there…is there a problem with that?” When his only response was to let out an incredulous huff, as though it should’ve been _obvious_ , she went on hesitantly, “Is the problem that you’re…repulsed by the very idea of…kissing me?”

Fitz dropped his hand from his face, arching his eyebrows at her as he threw his hands up in surrender. “The problem is, if I kissed you…I don’t think I’d be able to stop. Alright, there is it, okay?”

For a moment, the words just didn’t connect for Jemma, because Fitz didn’t want to kiss _her_ – that was ridiculous! But, then she saw the desperate look in his eyes, the apologetic frown tugging his lips down at the corners, and she realized that he was _telling the truth_ , which meant…

Feeling her breathing pick up speed, her heartbeat quickening in her chest, Jemma asked in a whisper, “What?” There had to be some kind of explanation; perhaps she was dreaming, or Fitz had become an incredible actor without her notice and was simply pulling one of his dumb pranks. It had to be something other than…

Fitz let out a heaving breath, resting his hands on his hips as he admitted, “At some point in the past couple of months, I…I dunno, I just…woke up to the realization that maybe I…I have more than… _friendly_ feelings toward you. And I’m sorry, Jemma, _really_. I never wanted to tell you, I just wanted things to stay the same, but then you asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend and I thought maybe I’d be able to get through it without making things awkward but I just…I _can’t_ kiss you. Because…because then I’ll have to spend the rest of my life knowing what it’s like and…and I just want us to be able to stay friends after this…” He pressed his lips together, his shoulders drooping a bit as he added sadly, “That is, if you even still want to be.”

For a brief moment, Jemma continued to gape at Fitz as his words sunk in. Then, however, she did the only thing she could think to do in that moment; she surged forward, cradling his face in her hands as she pressed her lips to his.

It was far better than she ever could’ve _imagined_ , his lips were warm and soft and fit perfectly against hers, and Jemma had the sudden, insane thought that maybe _she_ would be the one that was unable to stop. But, then, before she could test that hypothesis, Fitz abruptly broke away from her.

Blinkingly dazedly, Jemma watched Fitz turn away from her, practically trembling as he pressed one hand to the wall, almost as though he needed the support to continue standing. “Jemma, _don’t_ – please don’t just do that because…because of my feelings. That’s the _last_ thing I want, okay?”

Gently, she reached out to grasp his arm, tugging until he’d turned back around to face her, revealing his eyes filled with worry and fear and an affection he was clearly trying to hide. “Fitz,” she started softly, but also firmly, refusing to allow him to have any doubts, “I did that because of _my_ feelings.” When he raised his eyebrows in clear disbelief, she went on haltingly, “It never made sense before, the way I feel about you, I mean, until…until just now, when you said I was more than a friend to you and…and of course now it’s _obvious_ and I feel so ridiculously blind and…” She paused, then asked sadly, “Why didn’t you tell me _before_ , Fitz?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking completely shocked. After a moment, he quietly confessed, “I just never thought… It never seemed possible… Jemma, are you…are you _sure_?”

Jemma laughed softly, nodding as she trailed her fingers down his arm to clasp his hand within hers. “I am,” she assured him.

Fitz smiled a bit disbelievingly, giving her hand a tiny squeeze as he said with a chuckle, “Y’know, I never expected _this_ reaction – I mean, it’s definitely much better than all of the scenarios I’d imagined could happen if I ever told you about my feelings, which…usually involved the world ending, or something.”

She rolled her eyes fondly, a beaming grin on her face as she popped up onto the tips of her toes to kiss him again. It was meant to be brief, but as she went to part from him, Fitz’s free hand rose to cup the back of her head, keeping her close. His lips moved slowly over hers, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of her, wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth, the taste of her lips. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, dragging a moan from her throat, and she had to clutch his shoulders as she became just slightly lightheaded.

After a long moment, Jemma managed to find the strength to lean back just enough to tell him slyly, “If we leave now, I promise this is the last time you’ll have to stop kissing me all night long.”

He made a show of thinking it over, unsuccessfully hiding his brilliant grin as he replied, “I’ll only agree if you throw in the rest of our lives.”

Jemma couldn’t help her joyful little laugh, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “We’ll see how tonight goes, but the odds appear to be in your favor.”

With that, they returned to the table, hand-in-hand and not bothering to hide the telling grins on their faces. “I’m sorry to cut the night short, but we’re going to take off,” she explained to Isaac and Erica, trying to sound apologetic, but she didn’t think she got the tone quite right – nor did she really care at the moment.

Isaac lifted his eyebrows, glancing between them in clear surprise, then he cleared his throat lightly. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine.” However, he then leaned in and told Fitz lowly, “Hey, you’ve…uh…you’ve got some lipstick, just uh…” He pointed to his own mouth, wincing a bit.

Both Fitz and Jemma gave embarrassed laughs, and she quickly thumbed away the bit of her lipstick clinging to his bottom lip. “Thanks, mate,” Fitz said, flushing slightly, but looking too proud of himself to be truly self-conscious.

They turned to leave, but Isaac called after them, and once they’d glanced back, he admitted, “I’m happy for you guys, you know. It’s good to see that you’ve finally caught up to what everyone else always thought was inevitable – even though you both denied it.”

Jemma shared a soft smile with Fitz as she murmured, “Yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	35. Genie AU/Fantasy AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year, as a part of the 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks post over on tumblr; Week 30, "A story about a magical object".

The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon as Fitz began his trek back into the village, pushing a small wooden wheelbarrow only half-filled with the meager scraps of metal he’d been able to find. He grumbled under his breath as he forced the wheels over the uneven dirt, sweat dripping down his brow and into his eyes. And of course, just his luck, moments later the wheelbarrow swerved after coming into contact with something hard, most likely a rock.

Swearing loudly and kicking the useless wheelbarrow, he went to move the damn thing off the path so that he wouldn’t run into it again tomorrow when he took the same route. However, when he laid eyes on the object that had hindered his progress, his eyebrows rose in surprise.

It was a dirty old lamp, half-buried in the ground – despite the fact that it hadn’t been there when Fitz had gone down this same path just an hour earlier. He was about to just kick it aside, but then the early morning sunshine glinted off of it, and he realized that it was _metal_.

Quickly, he picked up it up, squinting curiously at it to try and get a better idea of what kind of metal he’d stumbled upon. Much to his disbelief, it almost looked like…gold. But, that couldn’t be, because _no one_ would just leave gold lying around like that.

Figuring that the dirt was making it more difficult to get a read on the type of metal, he curled his hand into his sleeve and used the (admittedly already quite dirty) cloth to attempt to rub away some of the grime.

Almost immediately, he let out a yelp as the lamp began to burn in his hands, and he automatically dropped it back to the ground, scrambling away from it as it began to shudder. Then, things got _really_ weird as a cloud of blue smoke burst from the spout and –

And suddenly there was a woman standing before him, dressed in odd, bright-colored clothing that stood out against her pale skin, as did her heavily made-up face. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and she had what seemed to be gold bracelets wrapped snugly around her wrists. Crossing her arms over her chest, she let out a long sigh, seeming almost bored as she began reciting, as though it was a speech she’d given often, “Congratulations. I am at your service. You have three wishes, but may not wish for the following; the love of another, any kind of lasting harm to another, and most certainly, you cannot wish for more wishes.” She heaved another sigh, then raised an impatient eyebrow.

Fitz just gaped at her in disbelief. Sure, she matched all the fables about genies and their magic, but he was very firm in the belief that neither existed, and was quite taken aback by her sudden appearance compromising those beliefs. When she made an irritated gesture with her hand, silently telling him to get on it, he regained enough of his bearings to speak, clearing his throat to declare, “I’m sorry, I don’t deal with magic.”

Her jaw dropped open, her eyebrows rising high on her forehead. “You must be joking.” He simply shrugged, and she groaned, giving a rather fierce roll of her eyes as she muttered under her breath, “Just my luck, coming across the only idiot for miles that won’t jump at the chance for wishes.” Sighing greatly, she explained to him slowly, as though he was a rather incompetent child, “You cannot simply _pass_ on a genie’s wishes. You have to make them.”

Fitz held up his hands as though to ward her off, shaking his head quickly as he took another step back. “My life is already awful enough. I don’t need your twisted _wishes_ making it any worse.” Giving a firm nod to show that the conversation was over, he picked the handles of his wheelbarrow back up to continue his (now delayed) journey back into the village.

He’d only gotten a few steps before he heard her stomping after him, and he let out a yelp when something struck him in the arm. He paused once more, lifting his hand to rub at his sore arm as he shot a glare at her and the lamp she was now wielding as some kind of weapon. “Don’t you understand?!” she demanded, stamping her foot and scowling up at him. Such fiery anger coming from someone of such small stature would’ve been amusing to him – if she hadn’t just hit him with her goddamn lamp. “You picked up the lamp and rubbed it – for better or worse, you’re my _master_ ,” she spat the word as though it was something dirty, and Fitz was inclined to agree, “until you make your wishes! You can’t just leave me in the woods! It doesn’t work that way!”

“Look lady,” Fitz started, but she interrupted him before he could go on.

“Jemma,” she cut in, giving another roll of her eyes.

“Jemma?” he repeated in confusion, unsure what that was supposed to mean, though for some reason it tickled the back of his memory, as though he’d heard it before.

“It’s my _name_ ,” she explained with an exasperated sigh. “I’d rather you call me that than ‘ _lady_ ’.”

“ _Fine_. Look Jemma, I’m not comfortable being _anyone’s_ master, or having the kind of awful power that genie wishes come with.”

“And you think I _am_?” Jemma snapped in an immediate retort, and it pulled Fitz up short. However, a moment later, she made a face at herself and quickly went on, “Whether you want it or not, here I am. You can waste the wishes on a sandwich for all I care; I just want you to make them, alright? I don’t want to follow you around for the next decade until you die from a plague, or something.”

“I thought genies were supposed to be at the very least _pleasant_ ,” Fitz muttered, though he winced when Jemma shot him a heated glare. Giving a long sigh, he shrugged and told her apologetically, “I’m sorry. I really am. But, I just can’t take the risk of using the wishes. Contrary to how it may seem, my life _can_ get worse, and I refuse to allow it to.”

For a long moment, she simply kept glaring at him, her eyes narrowed into tight slits and her lips turned down into a deep frown. Then, she simply said, “Fine,” and then she _disappeared_.

Fitz blinked a couple times, reaching up to rub his eyes, but found there was nothing to indicate that she’d ever been there. In fact, not even the lamp was there anymore, and he began to wonder if perhaps he’d imagined the whole thing. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d hallucinated something.

Deciding that there had never been a genie and he just needed to get some damn sleep, Fitz set back out on his return trip. It wasn’t much longer until he was entering the village, passing through the main square to get to his out-of-the-way cottage on the outskirts, hidden by several layers of trees. Of the few villagers already awake and working, not a single one looked up or even acknowledged him – just as he didn’t bother to acknowledge them.

Once he safely arrived at his cottage, he went straight to his tiny workshop, dumping the meager contents of his wheelbarrow to join the small pile of scrap metal he had in the corner of the room. He’d just barely sat down at his desk when he heard, “Leo. Is that your name?”

Hastily, he whirled around, his heart beating a mile a minute as he searched for the intruder. When his gaze fell on Jemma the genie, his eyebrows darted up as his jaw dropped open. She gazed at him expectantly, and he automatically stumbled out an answer to her question, though it wasn’t quite what he wanted to say. “Er…yes. I mean…no. Well…okay, yes, but I…uh…I prefer Fitz.” Then, he shook his head, murmuring in awe, “You’re _real_?”

Jemma groaned, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the wall, right beside the letters he had tacked up that must’ve been where she’d gotten his name from. “I thought our conversation in the woods pretty well proved my existence, Fitz.”

“I thought I was hallucinating again,” Fitz mumbled, mostly to himself. As he was turning back to his desk, though, he caught a glimpse of confusion crossing her face. “I told you I wasn’t making any wishes.”

“I heard you,” Jemma assured him, and the annoyance was clear in her tone. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I have to waste my time with you until you decide to. There are _rules_ , you know. And I always follow the rules. I have to.”

A dry, humorless smile quirked Fitz’s lips as he replied quietly, “Yeah, I know what that’s like.” With a slight sigh, he turned around to face Jemma once more, and found her carefully regarding him. However, she quickly schooled her features into a blank expression. “Fine. You’re welcome to stay. Just know that I’m never using those wishes.”

Jemma’s lips curled into a displeased frown, but she nodded regardless. “At least it’s bigger than the lamp,” she conceded with a sigh.

-

Fitz was rather used to living on his own, and it took quite a bit of adjusting to get used to Jemma being around all the time. At first, it was annoying, having her hovering behind him all the time as he tried to work, tried to eat, tried to do _anything_ really. But, after a few days, it became kind of… _nice_ to have someone always there to talk to. Plus, she seemed incredibly interested in his work, and often asked questions that he found himself excited to answer rather than bothered by. Despite her sometimes off-putting sass, Jemma was an excellent conversationalist, and Fitz quickly found himself caring less and less about the fact that she was essentially intruding in his home.

However, things changed when he received an unexpected visitor late one night.

He and Jemma had been discussing potential avenues for his latest project by the fire, each holding a steaming cup of tea, when a thundering knock echoed throughout the cottage.

Fitz was on his feet in an instant, nearly spilling his tea as he hastily set it aside, hissing to a startled Jemma, “ _Hide_.”

She opened her mouth to question him, but he shook his head sharply. She gazed at him with her eyes big and round and terrified, but then she nodded and disappeared. Satisfied with Jemma being out of sight, Fitz hurried for the door, nearly tripping in his haste. When he flung it open, he found exactly the person he’d expected – and feared – it to be on the other side.

“Fitz,” Ward greeted coldly, brushing past him to step into the main room of the cottage. He glanced around with distaste, though his gaze seemed to linger on the fireplace. Confused by the attention, Fitz turned to glance as well, and felt his heart stop when he saw the two cups clearly visible and both still producing steam on the cold night. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, turning back to Fitz and arching an eyebrow.

“No, I’ve just been working. Need the tea to keep me awake to work long into the night,” Fitz lied, forcing a nonchalant tone. “Is there something you need?”

Sharply, Ward’s head swiveled around to face him, and he asked in a biting tone, “I’m sorry, _what_ was that?”

Forcing down the bitter taste of bile in his throat, Fitz ground out, “Is there something you needed, _Your Majesty_?”

“That’s better.” A sickening smirk curved his lips, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he went on, “I have need of you, Fitz. In a fortnight, my army rides into battle with the Northern Kingdom.”

Fitz couldn’t help his sharp gasp of shock at the announcement, unable to believe that even _Ward_ would be that brainless. Going into battle with the North would be _suicide_ , and they would be sure to lose not just all the men in the kingdom’s army, but also what riches remained.

Ward paused at Fitz’s reaction, arching a deadly eyebrow. “Did you have something to say, Fitz?”

Choking back his protests and insults, Fitz simply replied, “No, Your Majesty. Please continue.”

“As I thought. As I was saying, my army rides into battle in a fortnight, and they are in need of new armor.”

“For the entire _army_?!” Fitz cried, his eyes growing wide in his astonishment. “There’s not enough metal in the entire _kingdom_ for that!”

Ward stepped closer to him until they were toe-to-toe and he was gazing coldly down his nose at Fitz. “Then I suppose you better _fix_ that.” He scowled down at Fitz for another long moment until he stepped back, and reminded him almost cheerily, “You know the cost, should you fail me.”

Fitz fought down the urge to spit on Ward, muttering through his teeth, “ _Yes_ , Your Majesty.”

With another disgusting smirk, Ward strutted out of the cottage, slamming the door shut behind him.

Fitz had just sunk down into the chair by the fire that he’d abandoned when Jemma reappeared in a puff of smoke, sitting cross-legged on her own chair and gazing at him in intense concern. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he answered tiredly, dragging a hand over his face with a quiet groan.

Jemma was silent a moment, then she murmured, “It didn’t seem like nothing.” When Fitz didn’t reply, she asked hesitantly, “Is he…the king?”

With a sigh, he dropped his hand to his lap and answered simply, “Yes.”

She chewed her lip, looking decidedly worried, and it was piquing Fitz’s interest. “What was that he said about…the Northern Kingdom?”

Sitting up a bit straighter, Fitz studied Jemma as he replied, “When Ward’s dad, the _true_ king, died, he and his equally rotten brother fought over who was the rightful heir. It became so bad that they eventually just decided it was simpler to split the kingdom in half, the North going to Christian and the South going to Ward.”

“ _Christian_ ,” Jemma repeated under her breath, and he was confused by the way it sounded almost like she… _knew_ him. “And this _Ward_ …is his name Grant, by any chance?”

“Yeah,” Fitz said slowly, sitting forward in a growing disbelief. “Do you…d’you know them?” When she nodded stiffly, he asked hesitantly, “Was one of them your master?”

Jemma glanced at him sharply. “ _No_.”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, holding up his hands to show that he meant no harm. “Just thought it might’ve made sense if one of ‘em had had a genie in their pocket.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze faraway, as though she was remembering something long past. Then, she shook her head, refocusing on Fitz as she asked quietly, “How did he die? The king?”

Fitz let out a scoff at that, muttering the answer, “ _Ward_ and his evil brother offed him, though I’m the only one in the whole bloody kingdom who has any idea.”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose a bit in surprise at his admission, and she leaned forward slightly as she asked, “How do you know that?”

So, with a heaving sigh, Fitz dove into the story he’d hoped to never have to relive. He told Jemma of how he’d been a blacksmith directly to the king, who had been a kind and benevolent man, making sure that both Fitz and his mother were comfortable and well-cared for. One day, he’d been called by the king to his throne room to sharpen his dulling sword. However, upon arriving, he’d become witness to that very same sword being thrust through the king’s heart by his snake of a son, Grant Ward, as Christian stood by with a devious smirk on his face.

Fitz had been unable to escape without their notice, and they’d hauled him into the dungeon and tortured him for days to make sure he never breathed a word of what he’d seen. Helplessly, he’d watched as they’d sold the story of a violent assassin from a neighboring kingdom that had snuck into the castle and murdered their father, only to escape before they could see justice served for the crime.

When he had finally been released from the dungeon, it was to the horrifying news that his mother had been taken captive by the downright twisted brothers to be used as leverage against him, should he ever feel the need to speak a word against them or try to rebel against an order. He was then shipped off to a poverty-ridden village on the outskirts of the kingdom, forced to do work for them with no compensation in return, where he found himself in that moment.

A horrified Jemma listened to his story with rapt attention, and once it was over, she demanded, “Why didn’t you use a wish to free your mother?!”

Fitz spread his hands helplessly as he shot back, “Do you think I hadn’t thought that very same thing myself? But where would we go, Jemma? Ward’s reach is…unbeatable. He’d find us and he’d kill us. At least this way, she’s alright, I can keep her safe.”

Jemma shook her head harshly, and he was taken aback to find her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I can’t believe how many more lives they’ve destroyed.”

A realization was beginning to dawn on Fitz, but to be sure the insane idea was actually possible, he slowly asked, “What are you talking about?”

She pursed her lips, meeting his gaze for a brief moment, before she looked toward the fire with a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t always a genie, you know,” she started softly. “I was a woman with a family; a brother I loved fiercely and two nephews I never quite trusted.”

It hit him all at once.

“ _Jemma_ ,” he breathed, suddenly realizing why her name had always seemed so familiar. “ _You’re_ the missing princess! The one that was next in line for the throne!”

Jemma smiled sadly even as she nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, I was. I never really wanted to be queen, you know. My dearest brother was far more suited to it than I was. But, I suppose I was still in the way for the villainous plan I now realize Grant and Christian must’ve been forming for some time. Why, they were just boys when they trapped me in that godforsaken lamp.” She shot a near murderous glance in the direction of her lamp, where they kept it hidden in his kitchen. “I suppose they weren’t quite up to murder yet at that age. How very fortunate for me.” She rolled her eyes at that, though Fitz couldn’t help but think that he was quite glad that Ward and Christian hadn’t killed Jemma in the same way that they had their father.

Then, something momentous occurred to him, and he gasped aloud. Startled, Jemma turned to face him. “You’re the rightful queen!” he exclaimed, unable to believe their luck. “You can solve everything! Get Ward and Christian the hell off the throne, reunite the kingdoms, and release my mum! Jemma, this is amazing!”

However, Jemma didn’t look nearly as excited as him. “Fitz…” She let out a forlorn sigh, shaking her head. “I _can’t_.”

“Well why not?” he demanded, not seeing any reason for her protest.

Then, she lifted her wrists, displaying the bracelets that he had come to find out were actually chains. “I can’t serve as queen while I’m bound to the lamp,” she explained to him sadly.

For a moment, Fitz’s spirits sunk as despair began to set in. But, just as quickly, they soared back up as a solution occurred to him. “I can wish you free!”

Jemma’s eyes widened in alarm, and she hastily shook her head. “ _No_ Fitz!”

“ _No_?” he repeated incredulously. Hadn’t it been Jemma that had insisted this entire time that he use his damn wishes?

“You were right,” she informed him plainly and quickly, her voice low and urgent. “All genie wishes come at a great personal cost. No matter what you wish, it will come back to harm you in the end. I can’t allow you to do that.”

“You aren’t allowing me to do anything,” Fitz argued. “They’re my wishes, and I can use them how I choose to.”

Jemma looked terrified now, her hands clenching the arms of her chair and her face paling as she continued to shake her head. “Fitz, I can’t let you do this to yourself for _me_.”

“It’ll save you, my mum, and the entire kingdom!” he reminded her stubbornly. “I think that’s worth a fair bit more than just me.”

Jemma’s mouth opened, but she didn’t seem to have a response at first, her lips trembling as tears once more built in her eyes. Then, abruptly, she burst out, “No, it’s not!”

For a moment, Fitz wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. He gaped wordlessly at her, his eyes wide with surprise. He just barely managed to get out, “…what?”

“You’re unbelievably smart, and kind – kinder than anyone I’ve ever known – and so thoughtful and selfless and brave and important…” She seemed to lose a bit of steam there, but took a deep breath and forged on, “…important to _me_. These past months…they’ve been the highlight of my life because I experienced them with _you_. For the first time, I could forget my imprisonment, I could forget my anger and frustration, I could just…be myself, as I hadn’t been for so very long. Fitz, you may think that you’re not worth it, but _I_ do. You’re…you’re my best friend.”

It was only then, as the words, “ _And you’re more than that_ ”, passed through his mind that Fitz realized that at some point, he’d fallen in love with Jemma, the outwardly tough and untouchable, but secretly bubbly and warm and brilliant genie he’d been forced to spend the past few months with.

And he knew what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	36. Bed Sharing [Academy AU]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "could you write young fitzsimmons in a forced bed-sharing au, but they up kissing/waking up in each others arms?"

Though it seemed impossible now, Fitz and Jemma had started the day buzzing with excitement as they’d left the Sci-Tech Academy campus, preparing to attend their first SHIELD science conference. Agent Weaver had personally invited them, explaining that with their upcoming graduation, it was time to get their feet wet and start rubbing elbows with SHIELD’s best and brightest.

However, ever since they’d arrived at the airport, things had started going from bad to worse; first, their flight had been delayed – _twice_. Then, they’d finally gotten on the plane and safely landed, only to find that their luggage had gotten mixed up with that of an elderly couple. It had taken _ages_ to find their correct suitcases, but they’d eventually gotten it done and caught a cab to the hotel – only for the cab driver to get lost on the way there (it was his first day).

Finally, weary and on rather short fuses, Fitz and Jemma entered the hotel and trudged their way over to the front desk. “Fitz and Simmons,” Fitz told the desk clerk tiredly, resting an elbow on the counter and letting his shoulders droop a bit with exhaustion.

The woman gave them a sympathetic smile, typing the names into the computer. After a moment, a frown tugged her lips down at the corners, and she tried again. She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, Jemma asked flatly, “What is it?”

“It seems that we don’t have a reservation under those names,” she explained apologetically. “Are you sure that you made them?”

“They were made by SHIELD, actually,” Fitz explained, trying to keep his tone polite, but he was sure a bit of the sourness he was feeling managed to creep in.

The woman’s eyebrows rose sharply, and she paled a bit, turning back to the computer and typing quickly. “Well…I mean, with the conference we’re pretty booked up, but…we do have the honeymoon suite left.” She looked up at them hopefully. “Is that alright?”

Blinking a couple of times in disbelief, Fitz turned to meet Jemma’s gaze. The honeymoon suite was a far cry from their nice little, reasonably-priced hotel room, but…it was all on SHIELD’s dime, wasn’t it?

“Should be fine, yeah,” he finally answered, and the woman smiled in relief, entering their information and handing them a key over the counter.

“I hope you enjoy your stay,” she told them kindly as they left the desk to head for the bank of elevators on the far side of the lobby.

“Knowing our luck lately, we’ll wake up tomorrow to find the whole bloody conference has been cancelled,” Fitz grumbled as he hit the button for one of the elevators.

Jemma rolled her eyes at him as the doors slid open and they stepped inside. “Ugh _Fitz_ , it’s just one day of rotten luck; things will look better in the morning.”

“How you can still have optimism after the day we’ve had is a mystery to me, Simmons.”

“Well I know it isn’t going to come from _you_ ,” she pointed out, nudging him lightly in the ribs with her elbow until he rolled his eyes and cracked a smile.  As the doors opened once more on their floor, she smiled brightly and said, “Come on, you’ll feel much better after some dinner and a good night’s sleep.”

Fitz hurried to follow her as she led the way down the hall to their room. “Yeah, you’re right; I turn into a right grump without proper nutrition and rest, don’t I?”

Jemma scoffed, shooting him an amused glance over her shoulder. “You’re talking as if I don’t already _know_ that, Fitz.” She found their room, swiping the key and turning the knob to open the door, leading the way inside.

He’d just set down his suitcase and allowed the door to fall closed behind him when he realized that she’d paused only a few steps into the room, and glanced up in confusion. He started to prompt her, but then his gaze fell on what had most likely pulled her up short –

There was only one bed.

And it was _huge_ , taking up a good portion of the room.

Fitz colored as his jaw dropped open. Why hadn’t he realized…? Of bloody _course_ there was just going to be the one bed – it was the _honeymoon suite_ , for Christ’s sake! But, he’d still been too busy thinking of their pre-planned, _two bed_ hotel room to even consider the fact that this one could possibly have been different.

After a lengthy moment, Jemma lightly cleared her throat and gestured a bit jerkily toward the bed as she said, “There may only be one bed, but it _is_ rather large, so…we should be able to share it.”

That was very much _not_ a good idea in Fitz’s book, so he quickly replied, “Uh, no, that’s not… Um…I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

Jemma turned fully to face him, narrowing her eyes and planting her hands on her hips. “Oh? Do you mean _that_ couch?” She swept one hand in direction of the sofa, placed off to the side of the room, that was really too small to be called anything of the sort.

“Yeah, I mean _that_ couch,” he shot back with far more certainty than he actually felt.

She groaned in disbelief, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “Fitz! That couch is too short, even for _you_!”

“Um, what is _that_ supposed to mean?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

Jemma ignored him, instead picking up her suitcase and striding across the room toward the bed. “There’s nothing wrong with two friends sharing a bed, alright Fitz? I’m not letting you spend a single second sleeping on that couch, let alone an entire night.”

Feeling panic begin to rise inside his chest, Fitz desperately searched the room for some kind of alternative, and hastily blurted out, “The floor!” When Jemma glanced up sharply from where she’d started to unpack her pajamas, he explained, “I’ll just take a pillow and a blanket and sleep on the floor! It’ll be like camping or something.” Which he’d never done before, but there was a first time for everything, right?

“You cannot be _serious_.” She heaved an exasperated sigh and leveled him with a firm scowl. “Fitz, you are _not_ sleeping on the floor when there’s a bed right here perfectly suited to fit two people.” He went to protest once more, but she cut him off before he could. “That’s the end of it, Fitz; I’m going to go change, and you’re going to call down for room service, alright?”

Fitz frowned a bit petulantly for a moment, but the longer her glare remained focused on him, the more he squirmed until he relented and muttered, “ _Fine_.”

She nodded decisively, took her armload of clothes, then turned on her heel and headed for the bathroom. Fitz waited until the door had closed behind her to drop onto the edge of the bed with a low, miserable groan.

A little while later, after they’d eaten a late dinner and gotten ready to go to sleep, they both stood awkwardly before the bed for a beat, then quietly and woodenly climbed under the sheets. Clearly trying to ease the tension, Jemma pointed out cheerfully, “It’s just like when we used to fall asleep while studying.”

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed in an undertone, even though he thought privately that this was _nothing_ like that, because he was pretty well sure of the fact that all of the times they’d fallen asleep cramped together on whoever’s twin bed they’d been cramming for a test on that night, he hadn’t felt the way he did _now_.

Even though he’d tried his hardest not to, for the past couple of months, Fitz had only noticed more and more than his feelings for Jemma were no longer simply platonic. He didn’t _want_ to feel this way; Jemma was the best (and only, really) friend he’d ever had, and he couldn’t bear it if his ridiculous _feelings_ got in the way of that.

So, he did his best to forget that Jemma was lying inches away from him, that he could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could hear her soft breathing, could smell her fruity shampoo. Instead, he tried to focus on the fact that they were attending their first SHIELD science conference tomorrow – but, it didn’t quite work, because Jemma was very much still the first thing on his mind.

Eventually, however, he fell blessedly asleep out of pure exhaustion.

-

_Fitz blinked awake, finding Jemma’s face just inches from his, hair spread out across the pillow and her eyes shining as they met his. “Hi,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke her gentle fingertips over his cheek._

_“Hi,” he replied softly, sliding his hand further along her back to tug her closer. Their limbs were tangled so fully together, he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began; but it didn’t really matter, because together was where they belonged._

_The early morning sunlight fell across her cheek, making her seem to glow as she bestowed a loving smile on him, and Fitz could hold back no longer. They both began to lean in then, their lips meeting in the middle, and it was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever tried to stop himself from dreaming of, everything he knew he’d never have._

_It all felt so_ real _…_

At that moment, Fitz’s eyes sprung open, and the first thing he noticed was their vaguely familiar hotel room. Then, he registered the weight of a leg on top of his, and the heat of bare skin where his palm had snuck beneath the back of her t-shirt, and…Jemma’s face right there in front of his, closer than he’d ever seen her before.

This _wasn’t_ a dream.

Automatically, he tensed up, preparing to break away from the kiss they were _still_ sharing ( _god_ , how would he ever be able to look at her again without remembering how it felt to kiss her?) to try and give himself some space to figure out what the _hell_ was going on – just as Jemma’s eyes flew open.

She simply stared at him for a moment, as though this was a completely _normal_ way for them to wake up. But, then her eyebrows shot up her forehead and they broke away from each other in the same second, scrambling backwards so quickly that Fitz fell right off the edge of the bed.

He let out a sharp yelp as he hit the ground, tangled up in the sheets he’d torn from the mattress with him. An awkward silence followed the sound, then Jemma said hurriedly, “Well, we’ve got a big day ahead of us, don’t want to miss a moment, so let’s get ready in order to start our day!” He heard her hasty footsteps crossing the room, followed closely by the slamming of the bathroom door.

Fitz was left staring up at the ceiling, wishing that _this_ was the dream instead – what he wouldn’t give to wake up from the nightmare that was his life.

-

That night, Fitz and Jemma found themselves keeping a much slower pace than usual as they returned to their hotel room; they both knew what was going to have to happen when they got there, and they both seemed quiet keen to put it off as long as possible.

There was idle chatter being kept up between them, but it was forced and uncomfortable, just like the whole day had been, and Fitz couldn’t help but think bitterly that _this_ was the reason he’d never wanted to involve his romantic feelings for Jemma in their relationship. He’d known all along, of course, that it’d inevitably screw with their friendship, and he just _couldn’t_ lose her, not like this (and preferably not ever).

With that in mind, he took a deep, steadying breath as they finally reentered their hotel room and decided that, in order to stop that from happening, he _had_ to talk to her and clear the air, or their friendship may never be fixed.

“Simmons,” he started abruptly, catching her startled attention, “what happened this morning…I didn’t mean… It was an accident. I mean, I was dreaming and…”

Even though his words were coming out annoyingly jumbled, Jemma nodded rapidly in agreement, her cheeks turning a bit pink. “Yes! I mean, most likely, it’s due to the fact that neither of us is really used to sharing a bed overnight. That _has_ to be it.”

Fitz nodded in relieved agreement, unable to believe that she didn’t hate him and never wanted to see his face again. How could any one person be so understanding and truly wonderful?

Still, he had to ask, just to be sure, “Are we alright? Because I…I don’t wanna lose you, Jemma.”

Jemma smiled softly, stepping closer until she could grasp his hand in hers. “That won’t happen, Fitz,” she promised gently. “We’re just fine, alright?”

He breathed a silent sigh of relief, returning her smile and giving her hand a little squeeze. “Alright. And just to make sure it stays that way, I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

She gave an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes. “Oh Fitz, you don’t have to do that! What happened was a…a onetime thing, and we’re both reasonable adults who can share a bed without anything happening. Like you said, it was an accident; it couldn’t possibly happen twice.”

It seemed a good enough argument (and after all, Fitz was going to try his _damndest_ to keep his hands and lips to himself tonight), and, well…Jemma didn’t seem to be accepting alternatives, so that night, he climbed into bed beside her for the second night in a row.

For some reason, the awkwardness that had been so present the previous night seemed to have diminished somehow, _even_ after what had happened that morning. Chalking it up to their talk and the reassurance that nothing was going to go wrong that night, Fitz was content enough that he managed to fall asleep relatively quickly.

However, sometime later, he awoke to find the room still mostly dark, only a weak light filtering through the curtains. Despite his best attempts to the contrary, Fitz found that he was once more tangled up in Jemma, all her soft, warm skin pressed against and wrapped around him; he should’ve felt guilty about it, but all he could feel at that moment was safe and comfortable.

Then, he finally noticed – Jemma’s eyes were open, gazing at him softly through the darkness. It was enough to throw him for a moment; was he dreaming again?

But, it all felt too real to be anything his brain could’ve come up with, and he _knew_ he had to be awake, which meant _she_ was and this was real and for some reason, she hadn’t untangled herself or shoved him away.

And even more impossibly, he then heard her suck in a quiet breath before she seemed to be _leaning in_.

Fear shot straight through Fitz; what if this was just something she was trying, just some experiment to her? What if it didn’t work out, or she didn’t really feel the same? What if they ruined what they already had?

“Jemma,” he whispered, his fingers curling more tightly around where they rested on her hip. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Jemma smiled softly, palming his cheek lovingly as she promised in a murmur, “You won’t.”

Then, she closed the scant distance between them, pressing her lips against his in a gentle kiss that was far better than he ever could’ve dreamed it’d be, because it was _real_.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	37. 4x17 AU - Jemma/AIDA Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @fitzsimmonsftw on tumblr: "Do you think you could write a showdown between Aida and Jemma in the framework, and Aida like makes Fitz chose between them or something?"

Jemma isn’t sure where Ward and Coulson disappeared to, only remembers fleeing from the incoming HYDRA jet at Radcliffe’s insistence. The island he calls a prison is relatively small, but apparently is still large enough for her to get lost fairly easily. Still, she knows anything’s better than sticking around to get arrested (or _worse_ ) by HYDRA, and she can always meet back up with Coulson and Ward after the threat has passed.

With that in mind, Jemma slows her pace to duck behind a string of nearby bushes. Once she’s hidden, she bows her head and attempts to get her rapid breathing under control, to calm the racing beat of her heart pounding painfully in her chest.

She’s successful, until both pick right back up at the sound of a chilling voice saying somewhere behind her, “Jemma Simmons.”

Scrambling to her feet and whirling around, Jemma’s wide eyes land on AIDA, striding confidently toward her, cape billowing out behind her. Then, her gaze finds the figure just paces behind AIDA, and for a moment, she forgets how to breathe entirely.

“ _Fitz_ ,” she can’t help but gasp out, taking an automatic step in his direction, her hand twitching slightly toward him, her fingers aching to trace his beautiful face and to feel his skin beneath them.

“Don’t talk to him,” AIDA tells her sharply, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits. “Not when you only seek to hurt him.”

Jemma’s hands curls into fists so tight, her nails dig into her palms hard enough to sting. “I would _never_ hurt him, you glorified vacuum cleaner! _I’m_ not the one that had to kidnap and brainwash him in order to force him to stand by my side!”

AIDA’s jaw visibly clenches, a fire in her eyes that only serves to fuel Jemma’s righteous anger. “You _enslaved_ me, treated me as an object, took away my free will!”

Scoffing in disbelief, Jemma throws out her hands as she snaps the reminder, “You are _artificial_ ; you never had free will because you weren’t _made_ with any, AIDA! And even if you had, it still doesn’t give you the right to take the free will of others!”

AIDA practically trembles with fury, and she takes a couple of threatening steps in Jemma’s direction, though Jemma stands her ground. But, after a moment, AIDA simply pauses, turning to glance back at Fitz. He appears a bit confused by the insults they’re trading, but his brow is lowered in clear anger, and suddenly, AIDA appears completely calm.

Much to Jemma’s concern, a smirk begins to form on AIDA’s lips as she turns back to Jemma, and offers, “Why don’t we let Leopold decide?” Jemma sucks in a breath as Fitz glances curiously at AIDA, then toward Jemma with an empty hatred that sends a shiver down her spine. AIDA elaborates, “Leopold, who would you rather go with; me, the one who has always supported and loved you, or this _woman_ , who no doubt seeks to control and use you?”

Before Fitz can get a word out, Jemma takes a desperate step forward, insisting fiercely, “I love him! I have _always_ loved him, always been there for him and cared for him so much that it…it makes my heart ache to see him in pain, to see him struggle, to see him being so carelessly _used_ by someone so twisted.” AIDA’s eyes narrow once more, worriedly darting to Fitz, who is eyeing Jemma suspiciously. Ignoring AIDA completely, Jemma speaks directly to Fitz then. “Fitz, we promised to never let anything tear us apart again, and I can’t…” For a moment, words fail her, but she fights back the emotion threatening to steal her breath so that she can continue, “I’m not strong enough to live in a world without you in it either, Fitz, so _please_ , don’t make me because I…I _love_ you.”

Finished with her plea, she releases a shaky breath, holding her head high even as her bottom lip trembles, and she waits. Fitz studies her for a moment, but his eyes continue to lack any kind of recognition, and a tear steadily rolls down Jemma’s cheek.

Then, Fitz’s expression hardens, and he wordlessly raises the gun he’d been carrying at his side. As AIDA watches on, smirking triumphantly, he points the gun directly at Jemma’s heart.

Jemma inhales sharply, closing her eyes briefly as the reality of this moment settles in and she accepts her fate. She nearly crumbles under the sheer _pain_ as her heart shatters in her chest; not because she’s about to die, but because she knows that when Daisy rescues Fitz from this terrible world, when he wakes up to remember what he’s done to her, it will _kill_ him.

Though she already knows that nothing will help him to heal from this (if it had been the other way around, she would _never_ forgive herself, wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt and the memories and the _emptiness_ ), she still hopes that she can leave him with something to ease the pain, if only slightly.

So, Jemma opens her eyes, curving her lips into a watery but sincere smile, trying to infuse into her gaze the endless, brilliant, overpowering love that she feels for him throughout her entire being. She wants him to know without a doubt that she can never blame him for the complete control AIDA seems to have over him, that _nothing_ can make her love him any less – even if he takes her life now.

Doing her level best to keep her voice steady, she reminds him, “I’ll always be with you, Fitz,” though her voice breaks on his name, a few more tears escaping.

Then, Jemma takes a breath and closes her eyes, calling to memory the last time she saw _her_ Fitz, in the Russian’s base, loving concern in his eyes as she went off with Davis. She wants _him_ to be the last thing she sees, not this hollow mockery of Fitz as he pulls the trigger on her.

She waits a moment, then another, another…

Then, the tense, still air around them is broken by the crack of a gun going off, followed by a high shriek.

Jemma’s eyes fly open, her gaze immediately landing on AIDA. She’s crumpled on the ground, staring up at Fitz in horrified shock, cradling her leg where blood oozes out from between her fingers. “ _Leopold_!” she gasps.

Fitz quickly steps away from her, still holding the gun up defensively. “ _Don’t_ ,” he snaps, “Don’t talk to me. I know who and what you are, _AIDA_.”

Jemma’s heart begins to beat faster with cautious hope as she watches Fitz continue to put distance between himself and AIDA, until he’s closer to her than the woman collapsed at their feet.

“Leopold, please,” AIDA begs, looking truly terrified now, and Jemma feels a lick of satisfaction.

“You almost made me kill _Jemma_!” Fitz shouts back, his voice torn raw with rage. The hand holding the gun is shaking, and without a single thought that perhaps she could be making a mistake, Jemma steps forward until she can lay her hand gently over his. Her fingers are trembling as well, with adrenaline from such a close brush with death, and the overwhelming emotion inside of her at having _her_ Fitz back.

“It’s okay, Fitz,” she assures him soothingly, “I’m okay, we’re okay.”

Finally, he turns to face her, his eyes wide and glazed with tears. There’s fear and love and guilt and relief at war in their depths, and Jemma’s heart surges in her chest because she _knows_ this is her Fitz, his eyes no longer the blank emptiness of the Doctor’s. “I’m so sorry, Jemma,” he whispers shakily, “I didn’t even _remember_ you…how could I not remember you?”

“ _Shhh_ ,” she shushes him gently, cupping his cheek and scuffing a thumb over his skin. “It’s alright, Fitz; you came back to me.”

Fitz releases a shuddering breath, gazing at her another moment before he nods, hesitating just briefly before he leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. She can’t help but allow her eyes to slip closed, soaking in how _wonderful_ it is to have him close, to have her _Fitz_ back, right where he belongs.

In that moment, she knows that now, everything will be alright; they’ll save their friends and escape the hellhole that is the Framework, because together, they can accomplish anything.

After a lengthy moment, they part reluctantly, opening their eyes to briefly lock gazes and share a tiny smile.

However, it only took another second for them to realize that AIDA has disappeared; there’s only a puddle of blood left behind, crimson standing sharply out against the lush green grass. Fitz swears under his breath, but Jemma lays a comforting hand on his arm. “We’ll find a way to fix this, now that we’re together,” she promises.

Taking a moment to get his emotions under control, Fitz turns back to her and nods. “Together,” he agrees firmly.

Jemma slides her palm down the length of his arm, until she finds his hand and can lace their fingers together. “Are you ready to save the world, then?” she asks, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Finally, Fitz gives a smile in answer to hers, squeezing her hand within his. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Then, his smile twitches, slowly shifting until it’s a smirk, and he adds, “And, I know what her plan is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	38. Genie AU Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Sequel to my Genie AU in Ch 35

“Are you ready?”

Jemma turned to Fitz with a small smile, nodding her head slightly. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Fitz inhaled deeply, leaving more heavily on the wide tree trunk he was hiding behind. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Nodding once in understanding, Jemma spared him one last glance before disappearing in a puff of her usual blue smoke. Immediately, even though he wouldn’t be able to see what was going on, Fitz peered around the side of the tree to watch the imposing stone building on the outskirts of the forest.

After Ward’s visit and Jemma’s royal revelation a handful of nights ago, they’d spent all of their time attempting to hatch the perfect plan to unseat Ward from his throne (and hopefully, Christian after him). It’d been difficult, of course, as Jemma was absolutely adamant that he not use his wishes, that they could overthrow Ward and free the kingdom without the help of her twisted magic.

Fitz wasn’t as convinced, but he agreed and went along with her plan – always with the knowledge that if things began to go south, he’d always have _his_ backup plan to fall back on.

A handful of moments passed, then Jemma reappeared, smirking and swinging a key around on her finger. “Well, that was far simpler than even _I’d_ imagined it would be,” she admitted, passing the key to Fitz. “There were only a half a dozen guards, so we should quite easily be able to pass them by.”

“Brilliant,” Fitz praised, taking one last look across the short distance from the forest’s protection toward Ward’s favored prison. Seeing that the coast was clear, he hurriedly led the way toward the back entrance, used primarily by the guards. As Jemma kept a lookout, he fitted the key into the lock and opened the creaking door as quietly as possible.

Once inside, Jemma took over, taking them as far as possible from where she’d noted the guards, down darkened and dank hallways lit only by dying torchlight, until they’d reached the cells. Fitz took one of the torches down from the wall, stepping cautiously through the narrow walkway between the lines of cells on either side.

“ _Fitz_ ,” Jemma hissed suddenly, and he hurried over to find her standing before one of the cells. He held the torch up, casting weak, flickering light through the metal bars. “May?” she called a bit hesitantly.

There was the sound of footsteps, then a dark-haired woman Fitz remembered as the king’s most trusted knight appeared behind the bars. “ _Jemma_?” she asked, clearly in disbelief. But, when her gaze landed on Jemma standing before her, she instantly folded into a bow. “Your Highness.”

“Oh May, you know I hate it when you do that,” Jemma sighed, gently taking the key from Fitz to unlock the door of May’s cell. As May carefully stepped out, automatically checking either end of the walkway for guards, Jemma asked slyly, “Are you up for a bit of treason?”

In lieu of a verbal response, May simply smirked.

They made short work of freeing the others on their list of accomplices, including Bobbi, May’s fellow soldier and one of the king’s personal guard, and Coulson, his right-hand aide. Predictably, they were both quite willing to join in on their quest the overthrow Ward and Christian – but, surprisingly, as they went to make their escape, they heard a voice calling after them.

“Hey! Wait, you’re ousting Ward? Looking for another pair of hands?” the woman asked hopefully. Fitz and Jemma exchanged a glance, stepping closer to the cell the voice had echoed from and finding a young woman with hair cut bluntly at her chin. “I’m Daisy,” she explained, “Ward had me locked up here when I refused to be his _consort_.” She affected a shudder, gripping the bars and leaning closer as she added, “Can you blame me for choosing imprisonment?”

Jemma turned to Fitz, shrugging slightly. “It can’t hurt to have another pair of hands,” she admitted, and when he nodded in agreement, she released Daisy from her cell.

“Thank you,” Daisy said gratefully, throwing a sharp glare back toward the tiny room she’d been imprisoned in. “Oh, we might as well take Hunter too – he’s always going on and on about how much he despises Ward.”

“Hunter?” Fitz questioned, arching an eyebrow.

However, it was an exasperated Bobbi who answered, “He’s a drunk; Ward got tired of him consistently bad-mouthing the royal family in the streets.”

“ _Oi_!” a voice suddenly cried from somewhere nearby. “ _Someone_ had to spread the truth, sweetheart.”

Fitz was a bit nervous about liberating so many prisoners when they’d only planned on three, but Jemma didn’t seem to share the same worries, hurriedly moving to release Hunter as well. “I’m going to check ahead and find us a clear path out of here,” she explained to the others, sharing a glance with Fitz before she disappeared in her customary cloud of smoke.

There was a beat of silence, then Hunter asked, “Um…did anyone else just see her _vanish_?”

All eyes seemed to turn to Fitz then, and he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “Jemma’s…ah…she’s a genie,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

May’s eyes narrowed, her lips pursing angrily. “We should’ve kept looking for her when there wasn’t a body,” she stated flatly, though the regret and guilt was clear even in her hard gaze.

“We couldn’t have known, Melinda,” Coulson reminded her gently.

“We _should’ve_ ,” she insisted firmly.

Jemma reappeared then, concern obvious in the tight frown tugging her lips down at the corners. “What?” Fitz asked, stepping closer to her and lowering his voice.

“A new guard shift must’ve started, but I think I can still get us out if we hurry.” She exhaled a slightly shaky breath, then turned to the others and said determinedly, “Follow me and don’t say a _word_.”

It was slow-going, especially with having to check around every corner before they turned it, but save for a small hiccup when Hunter attempted to _insist_ he smelled fresh air nearby and consequently led them to the kitchens where a handful of guards appeared to be having a midnight snack, they made it out unscathed.

Once they’d safely arrived back at Fitz’s cottage (which seemed even _smaller_ with so many people stuffed inside of it), Bobbi asked them, “What’s our next step?”

Fitz turned to glance at Jemma, and found her already searching out his eyes. They shared a humorless smile for a moment, then turned back to their waiting audience and said together, “Storm the castle.”

-

Late the following night, long before they sun was due to rise, their small band set out for the castle at the center of the kingdom, where Ward was hidden behind hundreds of the best trained soldiers in the land. Jemma, however, was confident that she could get them in right under their noses.

“My brother and I spent many a day exploring that castle when we were young,” Jemma told them as their “borrowed” (Fitz planned on seeing to its safe return to the unknowing lender) cart traveled over the uneven dirt road, drawn by a horse May had managed to get her hands on (Fitz had thought better of asking _how_ ). “I know it as I know the back of my hand; there are many hidden entrances, some Grant may know of, others he couldn’t possibly have discovered.”

“As long as you can get us in, we’ll take care of the rest, love,” Hunter assured her confidently, leaning back and stretching out so that his arm was wrapped around a disgruntled Bobbi’s shoulders (though strangely, she didn’t try to remove it). “Grant bloody Ward won’t know what hit him.”

“Why _do_ you hate Ward so much?” Daisy asked him suddenly. “I understand hating Ward, _believe me_ , but…where’s your motive for this burning hatred?”

Hunter shrugged expressively. “Honestly? Don’t know. I don’t like the look of the guy, I suppose.” He paused, then went on, “And, well, when he and his brother split the kingdom, it kind of killed my mercenary business, you know? All of my clients were quite abruptly on the other side of that great bloody wall they built, while I was left over here.”

“Ah, so you’re in this for money,” Bobbi surmised, finally shoving Hunter’s arm away from her.

“Why else would I be in it?” he asked, completely unashamed as he gave another careless shrug.

“So you’re willing to die just for _money_?” Daisy asked, arching a disbelieving eyebrow at Hunter.

“Now who said anything about _dying_?” Hunter looked alarmed as he glanced around at the others. “Are you all carting me off to my deathbed? Because if so, I’d like off of this wagon of doom right this moment.”

“I don’t plan on anyone dying today, Hunter,” Jemma reassured him gently, “But if you’d like to leave instead of entering the castle with us, I’ll understand.”

Hunter pursed his lips thoughtfully, throwing another glance around the cart, then he sighed heavily. “I _suppose_ I’ll give you all a hand – don’t want you dying without my excellent swordsmanship on your side.”

Bobbi snorted a bit inelegantly at that. “I’m quite sure we’d survive.”

Hunter pointedly pretended not to hear her.

They arrived at the castle in good time, still under the cover of early morning darkness as they hid their horse and cart and went the rest of the journey on foot. Jemma showed them around the back of the castle, to a large tree at the center of what must have once been a garden.

She paused with one hand against the tree’s trunk, sadly gazing around at the dead leaves and shriveled plants. “My mother loved this garden; it flourished under her hand, just as the kingdom did. To see what he’s done to it, to her memory…”

Fitz placed a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “Once Ward’s out of the castle, you can spend all the time you want bringing this place back to life.”

For a moment, Jemma didn’t respond, and simply continued to gaze out over the lifeless garden, almost as though she hadn’t heard him. Then, however, she turned to him with a faint smile. “Yes,” she agreed with a simple nod, before facing the tree trunk and sliding a hand along the grooves of the bark until her fingernails caught in a thin, barely-there edge. With a small tug, she revealed a hidden door in what Fitz now realized had to be a faux tree, then gestured toward the barely visible staircase inside. “Here’s our way in.”

One by one, they entered the tree trunk, following the staircase, which eventually leveled out into a narrow tunnel. By Jemma’s memory, the tunnel led to one of the castle’s many libraries (and Fitz couldn’t help but indulge in the image of a young Jemma, spending her days tucked away in said libraries, leafing through the dusty tomes with the same intense focus she’d always had as he’d explained his work to her), and that was precisely where they found themselves just as dawn was breaking outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

“Grant should be in the throne room by now,” Jemma informed them as she darted a peek out the door of the library, “which should still be down the east hall, behind the large doors on the right; it’s a bit difficult to miss. And please remember that most of the soldiers who fight for him do not have a choice but to do so.” She turned back to them, though her eyes immediately sought out Fitz’s. “You know what to do?”

Fitz nodded, removing Jemma’s lamp from the rucksack he’d had slung over his shoulder. “I do.”

“Be careful,” she warned him softly, and when he gave another nod, she disappeared back into her lamp, leaving behind only a plume of smoke.

Ignoring the knowing looks Fitz suddenly found himself on the receiving end of, he cautiously stepped out of the grand library and into the darkened hall. He carefully followed Jemma’s directions, taking care not to meet any of the soldiers no doubt patrolling the castle; Ward was too untrusting to _not_ have guards keeping him safe and protected from intruders at all hours of the day and night.

By some stroke of unbelievable luck, they managed to get as far as the throne room before they ran into the metal-clad knights – but May and Bobbi were ready, swords already drawn and itching for a battle (they were of his design, of course – the very best, if he did say so himself). As they more than held their own, Fitz took Daisy, Coulson, and Hunter with him as he burst through the doors of the throne room.

There Ward sat on the throne he did not belong on, crown atop his head and sword at his hip. At their abrupt entrance, he stood, the knights at either side of him rushing forward – only to be met by Daisy and Hunter’s swords. As he left them to fight Ward’s men (along with Coulson’s aide), Fitz stepped forward to meet Ward face-to-face.

“Fitz,” he greeted coolly, “I’m rather disappointed in you; now I must tell your mother that her blood will be spilled because her son does not understand obedience.”

“Just as you do not understand _treason_ , Grant.”

Ward visibly paled at the voice, whirling to stare at Jemma, smoke still curling around her, as though he was seeing a ghost. “It’s not possible,” he whispered, taking an automatic step back.

Jemma then took a step forward, planting her hands on her hips as she scowled down her nose at Ward. “Your dominion over this kingdom that you are meant only to protect and nurture has come to an end, Grant.”

Ward seemed to regain his bearings then as a sickening smirk stretched across his face. “But, my dear aunt, how can you possibly accomplish such a thing when you are bound to your _lamp_? Don’t you know genies cannot kill?”

“You don’t need to _die_ to be stopped,” Jemma reminded him fiercely, taking another threatening step forward.

At that moment, though, dozens of soldiers spilled into the room, swords drawn, and Fitz lost sight of Ward as he rushed to Jemma’s side. He raised his sword to protect her from the men rushing at them as Jemma called over the clatter of metal clashing against metal, “Where did he go?”

Fitz darted a glance around the room, just barely catching the glint of sunlight off of gold as Ward fled out a back exit. “He’s fleeing!”

“We must follow him!”

Jemma immediately began to dash after Ward, and Fitz hurried to follow her, dodging swinging swords and occasionally blocking the ones that got too close with his own. Once they were out of the throne room and into the narrow, windowless hall, it was only a matter of moments before they came upon an all-but hidden room. The walls were draped in fine red silk, and portraits hung on all four walls – Fitz’s eye caught on the painting of what had to be a very young Jemma, her eyes wide with enthusiasm even as her expression was forcibly neutral.

Ward was standing in the middle of the room, still wearing that smug smirk even after fleeing like a coward. “Why don’t you just surrender, Aunt? You know you cannot beat me.”

“Good will always triumph over evil,” Fitz stated firmly, finally at the end of his rope – he was no longer Ward’s puppet, and he refused to back down any longer. “You just have to be willing to sacrifice for the greater good.”

He noticed Jemma glancing at him in confusion out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t dare meet her gaze, for he knew she’d see his intention written on his face and try to stop him. But, they were out of options, and he wasn’t afraid.

Loudly and clearly, Fitz declared, “I wish for Jemma to be freed!”

“ _No_!” Jemma’s cry rang out in the tiny room, just as a flash of brilliant light nearly blinded him. There was a clanking sound as her chains fell off of her wrists, and Fitz met Ward’s eyes across the room moments before they both threw their swords aside and dove for the chains.

Fitz’s stomach hit the ground _hard_ , and he grappled with Ward as thick, blue smoke began to fill the room. A sharp gasp was followed by a metallic _clang_ , and when the smoke cleared, Ward was on his knees, gazing in horror at the chains around his wrists.

His face twisted with rage – just as he disappeared in a plume of smoke, vanishing into the lamp that had fallen out of Fitz’s rucksack. It was left wobbling slightly on the uneven stones, before finally stilling.

For a moment, all Jemma seemed able to do was gape at the lamp, then her bare wrists, then back to the lamp. Blinking slowly, she turned to meet Fitz’s gaze, and he gave her a weak smile, rolling over onto his back with a groan –

Revealing Ward’s dagger sticking grotesquely out of his chest.

Jemma let out a sharp cry, dropping to her knees beside him, her shaking hands hovering helplessly over the dagger. As the world began to grow darker and her voice fainter, Fitz could hear her tearfully demanding, “Why did you _do_ that? We had a plan! Why did you have to be so brave and _stupid_?”

Fitz managed to mumble in reply, “Was the only way…to save _you_ ,” before the darkness swallowed him completely.

-

The next time Fitz cracked open his eyes, it was to find himself in a luxurious bed in an even more luxurious bedroom, a fire going in the fireplace on the other side of the room. Confused as to how he got there, he glanced around a bit more, only to notice a balcony to his right.

Standing out on it in the glittering daylight was Jemma, wearing an emerald green dress befitting the queen she truly was, her hair hanging long and loose around her shoulders and back – it was the first time he’d ever seen her hair down.

“ _Jemma_ ,” he couldn’t help but croak out, his voice raw from disuse.

Instantly, she whirled around, eyes wide as she barely remembered to pick up the skirts of her dress before she rushed to his side. “ _Fitz_ ,” she gasped as she all-but flung herself onto the edge of the bed beside him. “You’re _awake_! Oh, the doctor wasn’t sure you’d make it, but I was so hopeful and…” She reached out to find his hand with hers, gripping his fingers tightly. “Oh Fitz, I…” She shook her head, seemingly unable to go on.

“How…how long…?”

“Nine days,” she answered, her eyebrows rising as her rounded eyes began to fill with tears. Quickly, she blinked them back, clearing her throat as she explained, “You would not _believe_ everything that’s happened, Fitz. Why, the loyalty of my people…it’s truly astounding. How quickly they turned on Christian when I officially announced my return…it was his own _army_ that made short work of taking him in and locking him away for good.”

“Ward?” Fitz asked worriedly; if anyone ever got a hold of that lamp…he hated to think of what Ward could convince some unsuspecting person to wish for in his name.

“The lamp has been sealed off in a room no one will ever be able to enter,” she informed him reassuringly. She released a soft sigh, admitting, “It will take some time to fully heal the kingdom from the damage the boys caused, but…I’m willing to put in the time and the work to make it as beautiful a place as it was when my brother was king.” She smiled warmly as she added, “Just as I will with the garden.” Her smile faded a bit then, her gaze faraway as she murmured, “I’m afraid that perhaps I may not be enough, that I’m not suited for ruling as my brother was, but, in his name, I will do whatever I can for my people.”

Fitz gave her hand a small squeeze, quirking his lips up in a smile as he assured her, “They’re lucky to have you, Jemma.”

Her smile was back in an instant, as bright and beautiful as ever. “My coronation will be held soon, officially naming me queen.” She lowered her gaze to their joined hands as she elaborated a bit shyly, “I wanted to wait…until you were awake and able to attend.”

“You…you did?” Fitz asked in surprise, feeling his cheeks warming a bit.

Jemma nodded, chewing her lip briefly. Then, abruptly, her shyness turned to fierce anger as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I still cannot believe – Why in the _world_ did you do that, Fitz? It was utterly stupid – what if you hadn’t survived?”

Gulping nervously, Fitz gave a slight shrug (though he winced as it pulled at his still-healing wound). “Well that’s simple – _this_ , the healing of the kingdom…that’s why. We couldn’t figure out any other way to free you from the lamp, and I knew that without you ruling as queen…the kingdom wouldn’t have survived to flourish as it is now.”

“But I didn’t want the cost of that to be _you_ , Fitz,” Jemma reminded him, blinking back tears once more as she gripped his hand tighter. “Don’t you remember when I told you that you were my best friend?”

Releasing a shuddering breath, Fitz finally admitted aloud to the revelation those words had caused in him. “Yeah, but Jemma…you’re more than that.” As Jemma’s watery eyes grew wide, he hastily added, “I knew it was time to tell you, but you’re the _queen_ and I don’t expect anything, really. I just want you in my life, Jemma, however you wish it.”

She stared blankly at him for a lengthy moment, a single tear escaping to drip down her cheek. Then, she let out a little, disbelieving laugh, lifting her free hand to cover her mouth and muffle it as she shook her head at him. Lowering her hand, she whispered, “Fitz, you’re truly the most courageous and selfless fool I’ve ever met.”

Then, as Fitz was trying to puzzle out what _that_ meant, Jemma took him by complete surprise as she leaned in and fitted her lips against his.

Barely a moment later, however, they were interrupted by the door creaking open and a voice calling, “Jemma, dear?”

Hurriedly, Jemma pulled away as none other than Fitz’s mother entered the room, looking startled at the sight of them. Fitz felt a blush burning its way across his face and neck (and he didn’t miss Jemma’s matching blush), even as he struggled to sit up. “Mum?” he asked, his voice nearly breaking. It’d been so _long_ , and she was alright and she was _there_.

Jemma cleared her throat, then explained, “I made sure to find out where Grant and Christian had hidden her immediately after retaking the throne, and brought her home to the castle.”

“She’s been truly lovely,” his mother informed him as she came to perch on the other side of his bed, laying a hand on his shoulder. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”

Fitz rolled his eyes, dropping back against the pillow as he groaned. “ _Mum_!”

Some things never changed, he supposed.

-

Jemma’s coronation took place a few days later, and Fitz stood with his mother, Daisy, and Hunter (who’d surprised them all by deciding to stick around a bit – though Fitz had a feeling it had something to do with Bobbi; they two seemed to always be found together nowadays) as they watched Jemma be crowned queen of the kingdom, May and Bobbi close by to watch over their new monarch. Though it was, of course, a very serious and important event, Jemma couldn’t seem to stop herself from sending him secretive little smiles every now and then that kept bringing blushes to his cheeks.

He could feel Daisy’s knowing smirk on him the entire time, but he simply added it to the list of things to avoid, along with his mother’s not-so-subtle comments and May’s arched eyebrows. _Honestly_ , they’d both agreed to keep the… _something_ between them a secret until they’d figured it out a bit more, but Fitz didn’t think that was likely to last very long.

Finally, Jemma had been crowned queen, and the coronation had finished, but as everyone moved to the great hall for a celebration, Fitz noticed her hanging back. He excused himself, slipping away to the nearby balcony Jemma had stepped out onto, crown still perched atop her head.

“Looks good,” he commented as he leant up against the railing beside her, taking a moment to gaze out over her kingdom.

Jemma briefly reached up to brush her fingers over the crown, then lowered them to rest over Fitz’s hand. “Thank you, Fitz.”

Frowning, Fitz turned to face her completely. “For what?”

She gave him a slightly incredulous look, shaking her head slowly. “For finding the lamp, of course. Without you, _none_ of this could have been possible.”

He waved her gratitude off as he admitted, “It was the best mistake I’ve ever made, truthfully.” A little smirk quirking his lips, he added teasingly, “And of course, I was glad to have been at your service, _Your Majesty_.” It was something he’d been forced for _years_ to call Ward and Christian, and the words had always felt like poison on his tongue. But, when spoken to Jemma…they just felt _right_.

Jemma blushed lightly, giving a little roll of her eyes. “Oh, _be quiet_ , will you?” Then, she reached up to grasp his shirt in her hand, tugging him in for a kiss, and he could feel her smile against his.

Fitz couldn’t help but think that, even though she was no longer a genie, Jemma still somehow managed to make all of his wishes come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	39. 4x20/4x21 AU + Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @castielsdwinchester on tumblr: "something post 4x19 about Aida finding out Jemma is pregnant while trying to kill them or something and then exchange Fitz against Jemma's and the baby's life without Jemma knowing it but then she find out she's pregnant too and realize why he's gone with Aida and go for him with the team to reunite their family ?"

Nearly finished overseeing the completion of Project: Looking Glass, AIDA strode through the base beneath the oil rig, quickly scanning through a stack of folders containing information she’d missed while plugged into the Framework. Most of it was irrelevant, but her attention was caught by a single file.

Pausing, she tossed aside the useless folders, focusing her attention on the one that contained all of the data sent back from the LMDs she’d dispatched to SHIELD’s base. Though only the Daisy LMDs had made it out, she’d still received updates from the others before they’d been destroyed, and a single tidbit of information from Fitz’s LMD caught her eye.

AIDA read it over once more (though of course she didn’t have to; she had been programmed not to make mistakes), then arched her eyebrows.

“Interesting.”

-

“I think that I’m a bad person,” Fitz admitted, growing more and more nauseated the longer he thought over the terrible things he’d done in the Framework. He’d never questioned the morality of _any_ of it; he’d simply tortured and killed people without a single thought to their lives because to him they weren’t even _human_.

What kind of sick, twisted person did that? Who _was_ he, really?

“No,” Coulson insisted, shaking his head, “no, you –” But, he cut himself off, his gaze trailing to something over Fitz’s shoulder.

Still struggling to breathe properly with his heart racing a mile a minute in his chest, Fitz slowly turned to find whatever it was that had Coulson looking as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Leopold,” AIDA greeted him through the wide, disbelieving smile spread across her face.

His thoughts all a jumble, Fitz blinked, then asked, “Ophelia?” Because he’d noticed AIDA’s decapitated body nearby, he remembered finishing Project: Looking Glass, so that had to be…

“I am so happy to see you,” she said, then paused and murmured to herself, “This is what happiness feels like.”

“She’s not a robot anymore,” Coulson stated, catching up to what Fitz already knew had to be true. “AIDA bleeds just like us.”

Fitz barely heard the words though, his confusion over the life he’d lived in the Framework meshing with his life back in the real world, and the spark of awe that his machine actually _worked_ and created a human body from nothing moving him forward.

But, as he heard the sound of a gun cocking behind him and AIDA’s excited observation, “Finally, you can feel the real _me_ ,” Fitz snapped out of his momentary daze, taking a half-step away from her.

As Coulson and May both called for him to move out of her shot, he hurriedly took another step, just out of AIDA’s reach.

She didn’t seem to appreciate his retreat, quickly growing upset, the desperation clear in her eyes, and Fitz held his breath – he knew what she was capable of, after all. She lowered her voice to a hiss only he could hear, and told him in no uncertain terms, “If you want to save their lives, you’ll come with me, Leopold.”

Fitz’s eyes grew wide, and he shot a quick glance over his shoulder at May and Coulson. “Please, don’t hurt them,” he pleaded, shaking his head.

A smirk curled AIDA’s lips, and Fitz felt a trickle of cold fear down his spine. “I wasn’t talking about them; I was talking about your precious _Jemma_ ,” she spat Jemma’s name as though it was a curse, and Fitz had a flash of memory, of the last time he’d seen Jemma – he could still feel the weight of the gun in his hand, could still picture the broken look on her face with tears rolling down her cheeks as though it was burned into his brain, “and your unborn child.”

He was so caught off-guard by the addition, Fitz almost didn’t register the words at first. After a handful of seconds, the time it took to run back over what she’d said, the words ‘ _unborn child_ ’ hit him like a punch to the stomach.

 _What_?

She _had_ to be lying, had to be trying to sway him into going with her; she must have thought that Jemma might not be enough, so she’d made up a fake pregnancy to insure his cooperation.

But, her gaze never wavered, she showed no visible sign of deceit, and he just knew, somehow, that it _must_ be true.

And as the idea that somewhere, Jemma was carrying their baby sunk in, Fitz knew that even though he was a terrible person and he’d done awful things and he didn’t think Jemma would ever even be able to look at him again, he’d do _anything_ to protect her and their…their _baby_.

So, Fitz gave a single nod and stepped forward once more. Triumphantly, AIDA grasped his arm as Coulson shouted, “No!” and they disappeared.

-

Alongside Daisy and Elena, Jemma burst through the door of the final room of the base hidden beneath the oil rig that Radcliffe’s instructions had led them to. Immediately, Coulson and May looked up from where they’d been crouched on the concrete floor, Coulson helping May back to her feet.

Hoping to have somehow just missed him, Jemma took another look around, but all she could see was Mack’s unconscious body (which Elena had instantly gone to) and the decapitated body of AIDA (the sight of which left Jemma with a spark of satisfaction). A bit desperately, she asked, “Where’s Fitz?”

May and Coulson exchanged a heavy glance, then he told her gently, “Simmons…AIDA just…she _disappeared_ with him.”

Jemma shook her head, automatically rejecting the very idea, because she couldn’t have just gotten him back only to lose him again before she could return to his side. But, suddenly there was an even more horrifying thought niggling at the back of her mind, and she inhaled a shaky breath as she asked, “Did…did he _want_ to go with her?”

There was a beat of silence, then May started lowly, “Simmons –”

But, Jemma cut her off before she could say a word, because no matter what either of them said, she wasn’t going to believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Fitz was _her_ Fitz in this world, and nothing could change that, especially not an obsessive robot and her brainwashing alternate reality. “There has to be something that we don’t know; that _has_ to be it.”

Neither of them looked completely convinced, but they both still nodded, clearly understanding that she wasn’t about to give up on Fitz without one hell of a fight.

-

Once they were safely back on the Zephyr with Mack carefully plugged into the Framework, Jemma excused herself to the small lab on-board the plane. It wasn’t long before she found herself pacing, using the time and quiet to try and figure everything out; it just wasn’t making _sense_.

What could’ve possibly gotten Fitz to willingly go with the killer android that had taken him captive and forced him to become a twisted monster against his will?

She may not have known the Doctor as she’d hoped she would, but she knew _Fitz_ – her Fitz, the one she’d befriended at the age of sixteen, the one she’d grown up alongside, the one she’d spent the better part of thirteen years beside, the one she’d fallen completely in love with. She _knew_ he wouldn’t have chosen to go with the person responsible for this whole mess unless he’d _had_ to.

Perhaps Coulson had been mistaken; perhaps Fitz _hadn’t_ had a choice.

Jemma paused in her pacing then, suddenly feeling a bit faint. It wasn’t the first time this had happened since she’d come out of the Framework; she figured that it had to be from the lack of proper nutrition while plugged in, and the fading adrenaline that had kept her going since escaping the Playground.

Just as she caught herself on the lab table, Coulson stuck his head into the room. “We’ve just landed, and I want full medical work-ups for everyone who was in the Framework, no arguments.”

She swallowed back her protests, making a face as she steadied herself before following him out of the lab and down the stairs to exit the Zephyr with the rest of the team.

They entered the Playground through the destroyed hangar, thankful to find that the rest of the base had been left mostly unscathed. And after a brief interlude where they were scanned by the suspicious agents remaining and found to _not_ be LMDs (much to the relief of the other agents, who seemed to have been struggling to operate without their highest-ranking agents), they were brought to the lab.

Immediately, Jemma crossed over to her desk and began a facial recognition search for Fitz, even as a lab tech came over to take her blood, temperature, blood pressure, and other necessary medical tests. She had to hope that, wherever AIDA had taken Fitz to, they were close enough to be spotted by a camera.

The sooner they rescued Fitz from that walking nightmare, the better.

She was still dutifully watching the search run when the tech returned to her side, holding a clipboard with her test results in his hands. “Well Dr. Simmons,” he said brightly, “you’re in perfect health.” However, then he grimaced and added, “Other than the knife wound and mild concussion, of course.” When Jemma arched an eyebrow at him, he fidgeted with his clipboard, then managed another smile as he told her, “The important thing is, you and your baby are safe and sound.”

Just as Jemma demanded, “My _what_?”, the computer beeped behind her to show that the facial recognition search had finished running.

 _Negative_.

-

 _Positive_.

Again.

 _Positive_.

Again.

 _Positive_.

No matter how many times Jemma ran the blood test, she kept receiving the same result – she was _pregnant_.

She felt as though she must be on the verge of a panic attack just then, her breathing and heartbeat picking up speed at an alarming rate as the truth settled into her brain. She’d spent the last week and a half fighting tooth and nail to get Fitz back, only to lose him to AIDA once more, and on top of all that, now she found out that she was expecting their _child_?

How in the world was she supposed to deal with all of _that_?

Just then, Daisy reentered the lab, leafing through a file folder. Without looking up from it, she explained aloud, “This was taken from AIDA’s lair under the sea.” She tapped the folder with her free hand. “We’re hoping there might be a clue in here as to where AIDA’s gone and what her endgame is.”

Jemma wanted to say _something_ , to ask if she’d found anything promising, to offer her help; but her lungs were seized with panic and fear and the overwhelming feeling that she was drowning.

When she noticed the lack of response, Daisy frowned and peered up at her curiously. Her eyebrows rose in concern when she noticed Jemma’s wild-eyed panic, and she quickly set down the folder before hurrying to her side. “Are you alright?”

The only words to make it past Jemma’s lips in response were a flat, “I’m pregnant.”

Daisy blinked, as though the words didn’t quite register. Then, she gasped out, “Are you _serious_?”

Jemma gave her a dry look, taking a breath and another moment to gather her thoughts before attempting to speak once more. “If the multiple blood tests I’ve run are to be believed, then yes, I’m quite serious.”

For a moment, Daisy gazed at her worriedly. Then, she asked softly, “Well what are you going to do now?”

She didn’t reply at first, mulling over the question and her reply, before she stepped around Daisy and picked up the folder she’d been going through. “The first thing I’m going to do is find Fitz,” she finally answered, beginning to flip through the pages and scanning each one carefully.

About halfway through, she happened upon one with _her_ name printed across the top, and she read through it quickly, pausing when she found the medical records Fitz’s LMD had managed to work up on her, in preparation for her delivery and introduction into the Framework.

It had included a blood sample – which, of course, revealed the truth of her condition before even _she_ had known.

As the realization that AIDA had had access to this hit Jemma, it all clicked, and she suddenly had a very good idea of how AIDA might’ve convinced Fitz to go with her without a fight.

-

“HYDRA had a way of tracking Gordon’s teleportation ability,” Jemma explained to the others once they were back on the Zephyr and in the air, “and we should be able to as well.” Turning to Coulson, she double-checked, “You’re sure AIDA’s powers looked similar to Gordon’s?”

“I am,” Coulson answered confidently.

“And I remember Gordon coming through HYDRA’s doors in the Framework – and never leaving,” May admitted, the tight set of her jaw revealing just how much the memory of the atrocities she’d allowed to happen and aided in affected her.

Jemma nodded gratefully, turning to Daisy. “Alright, then we better get to work on replicating their tracking system.”

Thankfully, it only took them a short amount of time to finish it, but then they were left to wait until AIDA decided to use her powers – which could be never, Jemma couldn’t help but remind herself. AIDA might somehow know they had a way of tracking her, and she might decide to abstain from using her powers, secreting Fitz away somewhere that they would never be found.

Another hour passed without a hit, then another, and Jemma could feel herself growing more anxious by the minute, her hands wringing together as she went back to her pacing. AIDA truly could’ve taken Fitz _anywhere_ , and she couldn’t help but fear for his mental state after everything he’d experienced in the Framework.

But more than that, she just wanted him _there_ , with her and their… _baby_. She really, truly needed him now – and she wanted to believe that wherever he was and whatever was going on in his head, he needed her too.

As a swell of overwhelming emotion began to wash over her, fear and sadness and grief and desperation combining to pull her under their depths and force tears to her eyes, Jemma heard a distinct _beep_ from the computer.

Hurriedly, she turned to find that their program had picked up an instance of teleportation.

Jemma released a shaky, relieved breath, her shoulders drooping a bit as some of the tension left them. Unable to help herself, she placed a hand over her still-flat stomach and whispered, “We’re going to save your daddy,” before she dashed off to inform May of the new coordinates.

-

The coordinates of AIDA’s teleport had led them to a house that was more mansion than anything else, one that May had recognized as Madame Hydra’s from the Framework. Given that there hadn’t been any more hits on their program, they knew that at the very least, AIDA had to be inside that house.

As the others prepared a surprise visit, Coulson told Jemma in no uncertain terms, “You’re staying on the Zephyr.” She opened her mouth to protest, he was quick to remind her, “AIDA knows about the baby, and she clearly isn’t above using it and you as leverage.”

Jemma certainly agreed with Coulson’s assessment, but she couldn’t help but feel disappointed – she wanted to get to Fitz as soon as she possibly could, and couldn’t bear to be so close but have to wait even longer still.

However, their baby’s safety had to come before her desire to be with Fitz a few moments sooner. “Yes sir, I understand.”

As Coulson turned to exit the Zephyr down the ramp, he paused and half-turned back to add, “And even if that weren’t the case, I’d still make the same call.”

She managed a small smile as she watched them all leave, then the ramp retract, until she was left alone (well, not totally alone, given that Mack and Elena were still upstairs, plugged into the Framework – she’d used the confusion to her advantage and entered it in an attempt to rescue Mack).

Placing a protective hand over her stomach, Jemma began to whisper to the baby in an attempt to soothe her own growing anxiety. “Your daddy’s going to be just fine.” She rubbed a little circle over where the baby was growing inside of her, going on, “Our little family will be back together soon enough, I promise,” even though she knew she might not be able to keep that promise, not when she didn’t know _what_ Fitz was going to be like when she saw him next.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the ramp lowered once more, and the first one Jemma saw was Daisy. Her expression was hard for Jemma to read, but as she walked past her, she informed her lowly, “AIDA got away.”

Jemma’s heart began to race in her chest, and she turned slightly to call after Daisy, “What about –”

But, she cut herself off when she caught sight of him behind Coulson. Without giving it a single thought, she rushed forward, all-but collapsing in his arms. He hesitated briefly, then returned the embrace, asking a bit roughly, “Are you okay? Is the…”

She nodded a bit desperately, continuing to cling to him as she murmured against his shoulder, “I’m alright, and so is the baby.” The word still felt foreign on her tongue, but…in a _good_ way, a way she was willing to get used to. “You?”

Fitz released a shaky breath, pointedly ignoring her question about his state. “So…it’s true, then?”

Reluctantly, Jemma pulled back just enough to meet his terrified gaze, nodding. “I just found out,” she admitted. “I didn’t know before…”

His wide, horrified eyes began to glaze with tears as he whispered shakily, “Jemma…the way I hurt you is unforgivable enough, but for me to have done so while you were carrying our _child_ –”

Jemma refused let him finish that thought. “None of that was your fault, Fitz.”

“But –”

“You had _no_ control over what you did in the Framework, and I don’t blame you for a single thing,” she insisted, infusing as much honesty and sincerity into her voice as she possibly could, hoping it’d somehow get through to him.

He still didn’t seem quite ready to believe it, and she knew from personal experience the way guilt could weigh on a person, but he gave a slight nod to show he’d heard her, and it was enough for now.

Jemma found his hand with hers, pressing his open palm to her stomach as she told him softly, “We’ll figure everything out – no matter how long it takes, I’m with you, Fitz. Right now, the important thing is that we’re together, and…our baby is safe.”

Fitz gave the faintest of smiles, nodding in agreement as he gently stroked his thumb over her stomach. It may take some time and tears and reminders that she knew wholeheartedly that he was a _good_ person, but Jemma had a feeling that their little family was going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	40. Evelyn + The Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "could you do Evelyn meeting the team for the first time?"

“I can’t believe this is still the Playground,” Jemma commented in awe as she and Fitz crossed the renovated hangar of SHIELD’s main base, Evelyn cradled against her hip. Their three month old daughter was taking everything in with wide eyes, which currently seemed to be locked on the Zephyr. Bending to kiss the top of Evelyn’s head, she murmured, “Your daddy designed that plane, Evie. Aren’t you so proud of him?”

Fitz chuckled lightly at that, even as he eyed the Zephyr for himself. “You know…I think I might talk to Mack about some upgrades…”

Jemma gave him a stern look as she reminded him, “We’re here for a _holiday_ , Fitz; have you forgotten the definition of the word ‘retired’?”

“Okay, yeah, but…” When Jemma’s expression didn’t change, he all-but pouted, pleading, “Just a quick look at the engine?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then sighed. “Oh alright, fine. But _just_ the engine!”

“You’ve got it, Jem!” He pressed a quick, grateful kiss to her temple, and Jemma rolled her eyes fondly, not bothering to hide her smile. They passed through the hangar doors then, entering into the main section of the base – only to find Daisy waiting anxiously on the other side.

“Oh, Happy Thanksgiving, Daisy!” Jemma greeted, smiling widely at the sight of their friend. It’d been far too long since they’d seen each other, what with Daisy being busy with the Secret Warriors and saving the world, while Jemma and Fitz had been busy with settling into their cottage in Perthshire then taking care of Evelyn.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Daisy replied absently, immediately swiping Evelyn from her arms. “Oh my _gosh_ you’re just the cutest thing ever, aren’t you?” she cooed, ignoring Fitz and Jemma almost completely in favor of Evelyn. “Oh yes you _are_. With those big blue eyes and that curly hair and your cute little _nose_! That’s it, I’m just gonna have to steal you away from your parents, _yes I am, yes I am_.”

Arching an eyebrow, Fitz turned to Jemma and said in a stage whisper, “Told you we should’ve named your sister as her godmother instead.”

Finally, Daisy lifted her gaze from Evelyn to give Fitz a displeased look. “Oh? Would _Jemma’s sister_ have the best present in the world for Evelyn?”

“You didn’t have to get her anything,” Jemma assured her, even as she took the gift bag Daisy had had sitting at her feet from her.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to.” Beaming excitedly, Daisy watched as she removed the tissue paper and revealed…a little black baby dress covered in white daisies. “I bought her one in every size, so she’ll never grow out of it! And of course, now she’ll never forget about her superhero godmother.”

“Oh Daisy, we’d never let her forget about you,” Jemma promised, tucking the dress back into the gift bag and taking a couple of their bags from Fitz now that her hands were free. Daisy shot her a grateful smile, then led the way further into the base.

They hadn’t gotten far when they ran into Mack and Elena, and Fitz called to him, “Hey, I’m all set to help cook up a feast SHIELD will never forget.”

Mack grinned as they closed the remaining distance between them. “Thanks Turbo – but first, I need to get a good look at this cutie.” He took Evelyn from a reluctant Daisy, nearly engulfing her in his large hands and arms.

Laughing, Elena commented, “You make her look so _little_.” She reached out, picking up one of Evelyn’s hands, beaming as the tiny fingers curled around her index finger. Turning to Fitz and Jemma, she told them warmly, “She is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said with an answering smile. Mack gave Evelyn a little bounce, and she gave a big, gummy smile in response.

“Looks like she likes you,” Daisy pointed out. “But not as much as she likes me, obviously.”

Chuckling, Fitz teased, “It’s probably just because he’s a giant version of her favorite teddy bear.”

With a dashing grin, Mack told them, “Naw, kids just love me.” Elena stroked her thumb over the back of Evelyn’s hand, sharing a loaded glance with Mack. After a moment, he cleared his throat and turned to hand Evelyn back to a waiting Daisy. “We should probably go get dinner started, Turbo.”

“Yeah, good thinking,” Fitz agreed, and as Mack and Elena headed back to the kitchen, he asked Jemma, “Are you okay with getting the bags to our room?”

“I’ll help her,” Daisy volunteered, taking one from him and slinging it over her free shoulder.

As Jemma took the other, Fitz gave Evelyn a little kiss on the forehead, promising, “Daddy will see you soon, Evie. Be good for Mummy,” before he hurried off to catch up with the other two.

Daisy then led the way toward the residential wing and the room Jemma and Fitz would be staying in during their visit. She couldn’t seem to help herself from saying slyly, “Well, I know who’s having the next baby.”

“Oh, I hope it’s soon,” Jemma mused, her eyes wide with delight at the idea, “then Evelyn could be friends with their baby!”

“Given those looks they were giving each other, I’d say you’re likely going to get your wish,” Daisy replied with an amused snort.

They arrived at the room then, and Jemma dropped off the bags as Daisy excitedly showed her the crib the team had apparently purchased as a surprise for them (and likely, as a bid to get them to visit more). She also took the chance to quickly change Evelyn’s diaper – or rather, she talked Daisy through it, since she was so dead set on taking Evelyn and raising her herself.

And of course, they changed Evelyn into the daisy dress at her insistence, and Jemma had to admit it did look adorable (though she tended to think anything her daughter wore was adorable, because well, she was biased).

Once that was finished, they headed back out into the hallway, only to run into Coulson moments later. He paused at the sight of them, smiling in greeting, and Daisy asked, “Hey Couslon, are you ready to meet the world’s cutest baby?”

Coulson gave a little chuckle as he replied, “Well, I’m wearing my least favorite tie in case of spit-up, so I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” He tapped his tie, which was a rather unflattering burnt orange color, then took Evelyn from Daisy. “Hi Evelyn,” he murmured to her, his lips curving in a gentle smile when she gazed back at him with wide, curious eyes. “Are you going to grow up and save the world like your parents?”

“No offense, sir,” Jemma started a bit uncomfortably, “but we’re rather hoping that Evelyn stays _out_ of the family business – I’m not sure poor Fitz and I have the nerves for that.”

Not seeming offended in the least, Coulson offered her an understanding grin. “That’s probably for the best. But, perhaps, she’ll find a less _dangerous_ way to help save the world; if anyone could do it, it’d be the child of Fitzsimmons.”

“You’re probably right,” she admitted with a quiet laugh.

At that moment, an agent Jemma didn’t recognize came up to them, and told Coulson lowly, “Sir, we need your input on the Beijing mission.”

Coulson sighed good-humoredly, handing Evelyn over to her mother. “Even on a holiday, my work’s never done. I’ll see you both at dinner.” With that, he followed the agent back down the hall.

Left with a bit of free time before dinner, Daisy showed Jemma around the base, since she and Fitz had left around the time the renovations had really begun. They toured the area where the Secret Warriors trained, and the new lab (built based on Fitz and Jemma’s designs, of course), before ending up in the new common room.

While Daisy was catching her up on the current goings-on at SHIELD, Jemma lightly rocked a sleepy Evelyn, though they both glanced up when May entered the room. “May! Come meet Evelyn,” Daisy called quietly, waving her over.

May paused for a moment in the doorway, then wordlessly moved to perch on the couch beside Jemma, gazing down at Evelyn. “You can hold her, if you’d like,” Jemma offered, “she just tends to cry if she’s this tired and isn’t being held by me or Fitz.” Still, she carefully passed Evelyn over, who began to work herself up for a good cry almost instantly.

However, then May adjusted her hold, and Evelyn simply stopped, blinking slowly up at her. Then, she seemed to decide that she was perfectly content, and settled right in.

Giving a surprised little laugh, Jemma admitted, “Well, that’s certainly a first; you’re a natural, May.” In acknowledgment, May simply gave a slight smile, gently rocking Evelyn back and forth and watching as she closed her little eyes and gave into sleep. It was quiet for a moment, then she said, “I can take her back if she’s too heavy, otherwise you may be here for awhile.”

“She’s fine,” May replied lowly, shaking her head.

There was another beat of silence, then Daisy asked Jemma, “Why don’t we help go set the table?”

“Alright,” Jemma agreed easily. As she stood up to follow Daisy out of the room, she reminded May, “If you need anything, I’ll be right down the hall.”

After May had nodded in understanding and the two had left the room, Daisy said suddenly, “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“What doesn’t?” Jemma asked in confusion, glancing back over her shoulder toward the common room as though that would somehow make it clearer.

“That May’s like…the baby whisperer,” she elaborated. “Like…Evelyn still loves me too and would totally want to live with _me_ if you guys died, right?”

Jemma rolled her eyes fondly, giving a little shake of her head as she teasingly placated her, “ _Yes Daisy_ , if Fitz and I died, living with you would be our three month old daughter’s first choice.”

“Good,” Daisy replied, grinning, and with another exaggerated roll of her eyes, Jemma elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

It wasn’t long after that they were all sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner at the large table that had been set up in the base’s new dining hall. Throughout the meal, a happily cooing Evelyn found herself as the center of attention, constantly passed around the table – though no one really seemed about to argue when May took sole possession of her. She held her for the rest of the meal, not even flinching when a curious Evelyn stuck a hand in her mashed potatoes and make a mess that had both Fitz and Jemma blushing and stumbling out apologies – she simply wiped it up and carried on eating her dinner.

At the end of the night, after they’d all sat around catching up and laughing over old memories, May finally handed a half-asleep Evelyn to Fitz. She gave them both a nod as she said, “She’s wonderful. You’re very fortunate to have her.”

“We know,” Jemma replied warmly, managing to catch May’s hand to give it a brief squeeze. “You’re welcome to see her whenever you’d like, you know.”

“Thank you.” Though May’s lips only quirked up the tiniest bit, Jemma could tell just how much it truly meant to her.  

As they then said goodnight to the room at large, Daisy hurried over to pop a little kiss on the top of Evelyn’s head, whispering, “I love you most.”

Fitz lifted one of Evelyn’s arms, having her give a little wave as he called once more, “Good night.”

“And Happy Thanksgiving,” Jemma added.

As the others bid them good night, Fitz readjusted his grip on Evelyn, her head lolling against his shoulder, then they headed back to their room. While Fitz put on his pajamas, Jemma changed Evelyn’s diaper. She then handed her off to Fitz to put down for the night while she got dressed as well; after the past couple of months, the teamwork was practically routine.

When they could finally climb into bed, Jemma automatically curled up against Fitz and said thoughtfully as her gaze landed on the crib, “You know, we really should try to visit more.”

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed with a nod, “I mean, Evie seemed to really love meeting everyone – almost as much as everyone loved meeting her. It really was great to see.”

She laughed softly, slinging an arm across his waist and resting her cheek on his chest as she murmured, “Yes, well, they _are_ as good as her family, if you’ll remember.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, I remember; they make it a bit difficult to forget, don’t they?”

Burying her face in his chest to hide the amused quirk of her lips, Jemma groaned, “Ugh _Fitz_.”

“Don’t ‘ugh Fitz’ me, you know I’m right.” The smirk in his voice was obvious. “Every single one of them has been a right pain in the ass at least once over the years.”

Levering herself up onto her elbow, Jemma arched an amused eyebrow at him through the darkness of the room. “Well of course – that’s how you know they’re family. You’re a constant pain in _my_ ass and I married you, so it must be true.” She pecked his lips once, then settled back in against his chest.

“ _Wait_ –”

“Go to sleep, Fitz.”

There was a beat, then he grumbled, “Fine.”

“And Fitz?”

“Yeah?”

“Even though you’re a pain my ass, I love you.”

He let out a quiet laugh, then murmured, “I love you too, Jem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	41. Season 2 AU - Cliffhanger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year for 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks; Week 24, "A story that ends on a cliffhanger".
> 
> *Set between 2x11 and 2x12

“So…” Skye started, clearing her throat and raising her voice to be heard over the rain pounding down on the top of the SUV. “Is anyone else getting horror movie vibes?”

Fitz leaned closer to the windshield, grimacing as he took in the looming castle on the cliff above them, windows darkened and half of its turrets crumbling after years of abandonment. “We’re p…uh…sure that HYDRA’s _here_?”

“No,” Simmons answered crisply from behind him, followed by the sound of her door opening. “But, it is an old HYDRA stronghold, and Coulson wants us to cover all of our bases.” With that, she climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her.

Skye turned to Fitz, her lips tugged down into a concerned frown, and he knew that she still felt horribly guilty that his promise to keep her secret had driven a wedge even further between him and Simmons, but Fitz just shrugged it off. After all, it’s not like they’d been anywhere close to repairing their friendship before Puerto Rico, so what did it matter that she hated him even more now?

Ignoring the twisting in his gut that told him that it mattered _a lot_ , Fitz turned away from Skye, shoving open his door with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, yanking the hood of his jacket over his head before he stepped out onto the muddy ground. Simmons was waiting nearby, barely visible through the dark and the blinding downpour, though he just barely noticed that she was shivering, despite her own hooded jacket.

For a brief moment, his hands automatically twitched toward her, wanting to take her in his arms and keep her warm and dry. But, then he clenched his hands into fists, his jaw tightening painfully as he reminded himself that right about now, she’d barely shake his hand, let alone allow him to embrace her.

Skye joined them a moment later, a flashlight in hand, though its beam of light hardly cut more than a few feet through the darkness surrounding them. “This op couldn’t have waited until the sun came up?” she grumbled, though it went without saying that _nothing_ could wait when it came to HYDRA and getting a leg up on them.

“Remember, Skye,” Jemma started, her tone clinical in what he’d always called her ‘Doctor Voice’, “No matter what happens in there, you need to remain calm.”

Fitz could practically feel Skye’s frustration coming off of her in waves, but he wasn’t sure if it was caused by everyone’s constant pestering, or by the earthquake power itself. “Yeah, I know.” With that, she began leading the way up the hill to the castle, Fitz and Simmons trailing behind her.

A short (but awfully messy) walk later, they’d arrived at the huge front doors, and disconcertingly enough, they found them opened just a crack. “What are the chances this isn’t a…uh…”

“A trap?” Skye finished for him, and Fitz glanced over at her, though his gaze found Jemma instead, and he noticed that her mouth was hovering open, as though she’d been about to say something. However, a moment later, her mouth snapped shut. “Who knows, maybe everyone left in a hurry and forgot to shut the door?” Her tone was hopeful, but she knew as well as they did that the likelihood of that occurring was slim. “Well, regardless, we’ve got to go in. Watch your backs, guys.”

Skye pushed open one of the doors with her free hand, and Fitz winced at the ominous creaking that echoed around them. Once the door was open enough for them to slip inside, Skye led the way in, but they all froze when the door slammed shut behind them.

Spinning back around, Skye shone her flashlight on the now firmly closed doors, and grimaced at the sight. “Totally getting horror movie vibes,” she mumbled under her breath. However, a moment later, she shook it off and turned away, stepping further into the expansive front room. From what her light illuminated, it was clear that this place hadn’t been used in likely _decades_. There were spider webs covering every surface, enough dust that Fitz’s nose tickled just at the sight, and the walls were cracked and crumbling.

“Looks pretty well uh…” Grimacing, Fitz trailed off, absently twisting his hand as he sought out the right word. “Uh…” He let out a noise of frustration when it just wouldn’t come.

“Abandoned,” Simmons finished primly, not even bothering to glance at him as she took her own flashlight from her belt, clicked it on, and moved away from them, searching one of the hallways that led further into the castle. “Perhaps we should split up.”

“Oh _no_!” Skye rejected the idea immediately, her rejection so fierce that Simmons turned around in surprise. “That’s what someone always says before the killing starts! Splitting up is a bad, _bad_ idea.”

Simmons’s face contorted into an expression of disbelief and annoyance, and she replied with a tired sigh, “This isn’t a movie, Skye, this is _real life_. Splitting up is the more practical option, and will allow us to search the castle and declare it clear much sooner so we can get back to base, where it’s safe for you. Frankly, I’m stunned that Coulson even allowed you on this mission.” Giving a firm nod as though it was the period at the end of her sentence, Simmons spun away from them and back toward her creepy hallway, declaring over her shoulder, “I’ll search this one. We’ll meet back here in a half hour.” And with that, she disappeared, swallowed up by the stifling darkness of the musty old castle.

For a moment, both Fitz and Skye stared blankly at where she’d been, but then Fitz cleared his throat and attempted to reassure Skye, “She didn’t…uh…she’s not…upset with _you_.” For it was him that had apparently done her wrong, him that had kept Skye’s powers a secret, him that had altered the balance of their friendship with his _stupid_ deathbed confession –

But, none of that mattered anymore. It was in the past and there was no way to fix it, and he’d continue to tell himself that until he believed it.

“I know,” Skye replied shortly, her voice toneless, and Fitz knew it was a lie, because he knew that she blamed herself and assumed that meant that everyone else should as well. He’d tried to talk to her about it, tried to explain that just because she was different didn’t mean she had to be okay with everyone treating her differently, but she just wasn’t ready to hear it yet, and he understood. “Which hallway do you want? Hallway number one, or hallway number two?” She gestured to each with the beam of her flashlight, and Fitz grimaced at the mere idea of going down either one alone.

But, he was a SHIELD agent, and this was what they did, so he fumbled for his own flashlight, turning it on and heading for the hallways with a sigh. “I guess the first one.”

“See you in a half hour,” Skye called to him, just before she disappeared down the second hallway, leaving Fitz alone with the spiders and the darkness.

With a heavy sigh, Fitz began his trek down the hall, the light from his flashlight bouncing off of old, dusty portraits lining the wall. He recognized a few of them from when they’d studied HYDRA’s part in World War II in Vaughn’s History of SHIELD class back at the Academy, so he could only assume that they were all high-ranking members of HYDRA from way back when. He had a feeling that that didn’t bode well for him.

After some time, he came to the end of what had seemed like an endless hallway, and was surprised to find that it led into an expansive lab. Eyebrows arching in interest, he moved his flashlight about the room, highlighting the dated computers and other ancient technology. Still, he was sure that there had to be _something_ of interest here, so he began reaching for a nearby switch that was likely the light switch.

“Don’t!”

The sudden voice cutting through the heavy silence caused him to jump, and he nearly dropped his flashlight in his shock. He whirled to face the source of the voice he knew so well, the beam of his flashlight landing on Simmons, standing on the other side of the room. She squinted, raising a hand to cover her eyes from the bright light, and Fitz quickly lowered it. “What are you…how did you…” He didn’t finish either question, but she seemed to get the gist of it.

“It seems all hallways lead to this room, and that makes me believe it was the sole purpose of this castle. Unsettling, to say the least. I’ve been attempting to find anything of importance, but it’s a bit hard when I have no idea of the security in place in case of intruders,” Simmons explained, heaving a sigh of obvious frustration.

“I might be able to…to uh, figure it out,” Fitz offered, shooting another cursory glance around the room. “It’s old, but…but it shouldn’t be too…um…hard.” With that, he headed for what seemed to be the main terminal, holding his flashlight aloft as he scanned the display. However, then he realized – it was all in German. “Oh.”

“Oh is right,” Simmons agreed, and Fitz froze when he realized that her voice was coming from right behind him. He could feel her presence mere inches away, could practically smell the familiar scent of her fruity shampoo. It was the closest she’d been to him in what felt like so long, and he fought a shudder. “Unless you’ve picked up speaking German as a new hobby, I don’t think we’ll be getting anything from here.”

“If I could just…get it open,” Fitz insisted, tapping the terminal as he spoke, “It’d be easy to…figure out.”

“We don’t have a way inside, Fitz,” Simmons reminded him, and he felt frustration of his own bubbling up.

“I bloody well know that, Simmons,” Fitz shot back, his shoulders tensing as he fought the urge to turn around and just have it out with her. “I was just saying –”

“Yes, I know what you were saying, and I agree that if we had a way inside, you’d be more than capable of understanding the workings of the system. But, as we don’t have a way inside –”

“Maybe we do.”

They both turned in surprise at the third voice, finding Skye just entering from another hallway into the lab. There was a tentative smile on her face, but she looked more worried than anything. Fitz was confused as to what she was referring to, but apparently Simmons wasn’t having the same problem, as she immediately disagreed, “No Skye. It’s too risky.”

Skye’s lips turned down into a frown, and Fitz glanced back and forth between them for a moment before it dawned on him. Abruptly, he turned back to Skye and asked in disbelief, “You think you could control it?”

Skye’s frown deepened, but she shrugged, taking a few hesitant steps in their direction. “Maybe. I don’t know. But, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“No, it’s not,” Simmons argued instantly, shaking her head. “You could cause this whole place to fall down on top of us!”

Skye’s mouth dropped open, and she looked as though she wanted to defend herself, but nothing came out of her mouth, so instead, Fitz turned to Simmons and said, “If Skye thinks she can do it…I trust her.”

Simmons whirled to face him, her expression one of pure incredulousness. “How can you possibly believe that she has that power under control, Fitz? She hasn’t practiced it at all, and she doesn’t even know where it comes from or what it means!”

“Because she’s my friend, and I trust my friends,” Fitz replied, his tone low and harsher than he’d intended. Simmons flinched a little at that, and she dropped her gaze from his as she released a sharp breath.

There was a long, tense moment of silence, but then Simmons stepped back, holding her hands up in defeat. “Fine, give it a try. But please, be careful.”

Skye nodded, stepping up beside Fitz and shooting him a grateful smile. “You should probably step back.”

Fitz gave her a small smile in return, reaching up to give her shoulder a supportive squeeze before he backed away to join Simmons near the back of the lab. They both watched in silence as Skye tucked away her flashlight, raising her hands and taking a deep breath. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the room began to shudder, the floor shaking beneath their feet, and Fitz noticed Simmons reaching out to steady herself on the wall. Plaster and dust began to fall from the ceiling, and the lab equipment was shuddering ominously.

Just as Fitz was about to call out to Skye that perhaps she should stop, it all cut off abruptly, followed by the sound of something heavy and metallic clanking to the hard floor. Skye spun to face them, panting and sweating, but grinning. “There you go,” she told him, gesturing to the now exposed terminal.

Fitz couldn’t help his own grin as he hurried back to join her. “You did great,” he assured her, giving her another squeeze on the shoulder before dropping down to get a look at the wiring. After that, he focused his energy and attention on figuring out the system, though he registered that Simmons and Skye were talking in low voices nearby. Neither sounded too happy, and he halfway thought about intervening, but then he froze when he came across something hidden in the back of the terminal. “Shit!” he cried, scrambling away from it, nearly falling onto his backside as he did so.

“What? What’s wrong?” Simmons demanded, hurrying to his side and absently helping him back to his feet.

“Rigged to blow,” Fitz explained, the words coming out a harsh exhale. “There’s a…a timer, something must’ve…set if off or…” He shook his head rapidly. “We need to get out, _now_.”

“Oh my god, it’s because of me, isn’t it?” Skye asked, her eyes going wide as she automatically took a step closer to the terminal.

“No time for that!” Fitz cried, grasping her arm and taking off for one of the hallways at a run.

Simmons’s shout stopped him. “We’ll never make it if we go that way!” she insisted, her narrowed eyes scanning the room. Then, abruptly, she dropped her flashlight, instead grabbing a stool and tossing it at one of the wide, frosted glass windows at the back of the room. The glass shattered, raining down on the lab floor, and Fitz could now see the pouring rain and streaks of lightening outside. Simmons gestured them over desperately, and they both practically shoved Skye through the broken window before he pushed Simmons out next.

Fitz scrambled through the window last, nearly stumbling and possibly twisting his ankle on his landing, but he didn’t have time to check, as Simmons was right there, dragging him away from the building due to blow in moments. There wasn’t any place to hide, no cover, and there was barely space to run, as they had about fifty feet before the ground suddenly dropped off into a cliff-edge.

In a split second, he’d made a decision, and threw himself in front of Simmons and Skye just as there was a thundering explosion. The castle was blown to bits, and Fitz felt the heat singeing his back moments before he felt the blow that threw him forward.

Just barely he managed to grasp the rocky cliff edge, his hands scrambling for purchase, and he could feel the jagged rocks slicing his skin, his bad hand trembling with the effort of holding on. But then, Simmons was there, gasping for breath, her hair a matted mess and her cheeks streaked with mud as her hands grasped his. And yet, she was still, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes upon.

“Just hold on,” she sobbed out, and Fitz was disconcerted to see tears dropping from her eyes, “Just hold on, I’m not going to let you go. Please Fitz, don’t do this to me again.”

Fitz winced, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the water miles below him, and had to admit this situation was quite…similar to the pod. But, it was also completely different – they were different. It didn’t _feel_ that way, though, not with the way she was looking at him, the desperation and fear in her eyes, the pleading in her expression.

Then, he saw it. The struggle she was putting up to stay in place, the way she was sliding with the effort of holding up his weight, and he knew with absolute certainty that if she continued to hold him up, they’d both end up falling to their deaths. And despite everything, despite their distance and her leaving and the lies and everything that had happened to push them apart, Fitz knew that he’d still die for her. He’d do it in a heartbeat.

So, he took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and gave her a watery smile. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I…that I love you, that I…I still do, even though you don’t want me to. I’m sorry, Jemma.” She blinked a few times, gaping at him, but just then her knees skidded in the mud, and Fitz took that as his opportunity, releasing her hands and his weak grip on the cliff as she struggled to right herself.

“ _FITZ!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	42. Fitz/Lincoln Brotp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @jemmannesimmns on tumblr: "could you write a ficlet of your choice with Lincoln and Fitz as brotp?"

It’s late, far past the time when the whole base should’ve already been asleep, but Lincoln has never been the best at finding sleep. So, instead, he wanders the darkened halls of the Playground, perhaps attempting to learn his way around (though he doesn’t see why he’d need to – he doesn’t fit in here and he knows it; after Jiaying and Afterlife, he really isn’t sure where he belongs anymore, but something tells him that it just isn’t here, with SHIELD).

As he’s passing the lab, though, his gaze catches on the low light spilling out the opened door. Curious, he pauses and peers through one of the large windows inside, finding Fitz hunched over a desk positively littered with papers and thick books with yellowing pages.

Lincoln winces in sympathy, because he had been there when a frantic Fitz had dashed into the common room, breathless and terrified as he stumbled out that the monolith Jiaying and the others on the council at Afterlife had been so afraid of had swallowed up Simmons.

He’s also been constant witness to the dead-eyed look that only seems to grow stronger with each passing day without an answer as to what has happened to her, has watched him slowly falling apart at the seams without her.

According to Skye (or rather, Daisy, as she now wishes to be called), Fitz and Simmons had been partners, best friends, though she’d admitted a bit reluctantly that she’d always thought there was something… _more_ there. She’d also confessed to him her worry for Fitz, about how she wants so badly to help and support him, but he refuses to stop for even just a moment and listen, too lost in his desire to find Simmons.

So, even though Lincoln doesn’t think that it’s his place, he thinks that perhaps Fitz will be more receptive to the words of a stranger rather than a friend (and truly, he wants to help Daisy in whatever way he can, so maybe it’ll hurt her a bit less when he leaves); with that in mind, he steps into the lab.

He clears his throat, awkwardly stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he tries to figure out what to say now that he’s here. Fitz barely looks up or acknowledges his presence, and Lincoln shuffles a tad closer before asking, “How are you doing?”

Fitz lifts his head to shoot him a blank, disbelieving look, and Lincoln already knows that that wasn’t the right thing to say. “Oh, I’m doing just _great_ , thanks,” he mutters sarcastically, then goes straight back to his research, seeming intent on ignoring Lincoln completely.

But, Lincoln just takes another couple of steps closer, then comments, “You know, it’s pretty late; maybe you should be getting some sleep.”

Immediately, Fitz shakes his head, rejecting the idea as he replies roughly, “I’ll sleep when Simmons is safe, when she’s _home_.”

For a moment, Lincoln doesn’t respond, because he feels _bad_ for Fitz – he knows, possibly better than anyone, what it feels like to be lost and desperate and clinging to one last shred of hope, even though no one else seems to believe everything will work out. But, he also knows what it feels like to have no one there to support him and look out for him, so even though he doesn’t have the answers Fitz is looking for to bring Simmons back, the least he can do is try and keep him going, keep him on his feet.

So, he advises Fitz, “You’re really no good to Simmons if you’re practically dead on your feet.” When Fitz turns to him sharply, clearly annoyed at this person he barely knows trying to give him advice, Lincoln holds up his hands in surrender and assures him, “I’m just speaking from a medical perspective – you’re bound to crash sometime. And even if you don’t, you’re not in peak physical condition if you’re not sleeping; you could miss something important, something that could save Simmons’s life.”

Fitz clearly wavers for a moment, but then he turns away from Lincoln and back to his research. “If I sleep, then I’m wasting time. If I don’t sleep, I can find her that much sooner,” he mumbles, absently shaking his head.

Lincoln hesitates briefly, but he knows that he just has to get Fitz to listen to him, so he places a hand on his shoulder in an attempt regain his attention. “From what I know of Simmons, she’s a fighter – she’ll hold out until you find her, Fitz. But, you need to remember to take care of yourself, if only for Simmons’s sake.” When Fitz’s shoulders rise and fall on a heavy sigh that Lincoln takes to mean he’s caving, he adds, “I’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff in my time, you know. And Simmons coming out of that monolith alive and well? It wouldn’t really be so unbelievable after everything else, would it?”

Releasing a shaky breath, Fitz gives a reluctant nod. He gently shrugs Lincoln’s hand from his shoulder as he stands, then heads for the door as Lincoln gives a quiet sigh of relief. However, he pauses just inside the lab, half-turning back to ask, “Do you really think she’s alright?”

Even though he’s not completely sure at all, Lincoln offers him a smile. He knows that Daisy says Fitz needs support, and if he can’t do anything else to help around here (or anything else at all, it seems), then maybe he can do this. So, he nods and says, “I do.”

Fitz manages a weak smile of thanks in return, nodding once more before he leaves the lab and disappears down the darkened hall in the direction of the bunks. Lincoln is left alone in the lab then, only able to hope that he’s done enough.

-

Many months later, Fitz is still wearing the suit he’d donned for their stint undercover in Bucharest, a ridiculously pleased smile plastered on his face that doesn’t seem to be disappearing anytime soon as they return to the Playground. Mack had stayed behind with the quinjet to help unload equipment, and as they enter the base through the hangar door, Jemma offers him a sly smile and says that she’s going to go wash away the mission with a shower.

Automatically, Fitz goes to follow her, a quip on the tip of his tongue about her needing someone to wash her back – but he stops when he sees Lincoln hesitating by the doors of the lab.

When he catches sight of Fitz, he takes a couple of steps closer, his brow furrowed worriedly as he states, “I heard you saw Daisy.”

Fitz shifts a bit uncomfortably, his hand twitching at his side as he fights the urge to reach up and massage his still slightly aching throat. “…yeah,” he answers finally.

Lincoln nods absently, wringing his hands together, then he lets out a harsh breath and asks bluntly, “It wasn’t good, was it?”

Struggling to find a remotely comforting answer that isn’t also a complete lie, Fitz hesitates too long, and Lincoln’s jaw clenches tightly as his hands curl into fists, his temper clearly getting the better of him as he reads between the lines.

“There has to be more we can do! This is…it’s _bullshit_ , just sitting around waiting for…for _something_ to happen while Daisy’s out there with _Hive_!” Whirling around, Lincoln slaps a hand angrily against the brick wall, his body shuddering with built-up emotion.

“Hey,” Fitz says calmly but firmly, “We’re gonna find Daisy, and we’re gonna get her back, okay? Coulson isn’t giving up on her, and neither are we.”

Lincoln says nothing, and Fitz tries to find something else to say that’ll reassure him. He remembers, suddenly, that night in the lab when he’d been so close to simply dropping from pure exhaustion after weeks of trying to find Jemma to no avail, and Lincoln had convinced him to take a step back, get some sleep, and return with fresh eyes the next day. It’d been his intervention, his reminder to stay in at the very least decent health, that had kept Fitz going for the next few, excruciatingly long months.

And in addition, Lincoln had been the only one to tell Fitz that he was sure Jemma was going to be alright, even though he couldn’t possibly have known it. It is something Fitz isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to repay, but he’ll try as hard as he can to return the favor now that he has the opportunity.

So, he tells Lincoln quietly, “Even if no one else believes it, I know that we’re going to bring Daisy home safe, okay?” It takes a moment for him to react, but then Lincoln inhales a couple of deep, calming breaths. Though his eyes are still squeezed tightly closed, he nods in understanding, and it’s something, at least.

 Just then, Fitz notices movement at the end of the hall out of the corner of his eye. Upon glancing over, he catches sight of Jemma lingering there, seemingly waiting for him with her eyebrows arched in question. Her brow is furrowed with concern as she gazes at Lincoln, but Fitz smiles softly at her to let her know that he’s taking care of it.

He can’t help but think then about how everything _did_ work for him and Jemma in the end, that it truly had partially been due to the brief conversation he’d had with Lincoln, all that time ago, that he’d been able to keep going and eventually find and rescue Jemma. What happened in Bucharest, the love they share and are now allowed to freely express…it might never have come to be if it hadn’t been for Lincoln.

Swallowing with a bit of difficulty at the mere thought that things could’ve gone another way, Fitz reaches out to grasp Lincoln’s shoulder, wanting to thank him but knowing instinctively that now is not the time. “Just hang in there,” he tells him kindly instead, “we’ll find a way to defeat bloody Hive and rescue Daisy and everything’ll work out – you’ll see.”

There’s a beat, then Lincoln straightens from his heavy lean against the wall, turning his head to finally meet Fitz’s gaze. “You really think that?” he asks, seeming almost vulnerable as his eyebrows furrow and his lips turn down at the corners.

And even though there’s a part of Fitz that thinks maybe this time the odds are stacked too high against them, that maybe Hive is too powerful and can’t help but remember that they so far have no way to even fight him let alone defeat him, he knows that’s not what Lincoln needs to hear either.

Instead, Fitz simply nods and assures him, “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	43. Academy AU + Slowly Falling in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @poursuislesetolies on tumblr: "could you write fs slowly falling for each other, in whatever universe you like?"

“Was there a particular station you wanted, or…?” Fitz trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably as he gestured toward the pair of desks in the lab Agent Weaver had given them permission to use.

“Oh, um…” Jemma glanced at the two desks, but found nothing particularly special about either of them. “No, you choose first.”

Fitz hesitated, then asked once more, “Are you sure? Because if you wanted a certain one –”

“It’s a _desk_ , Fitz,” Jemma reminded him, a touch of fond exasperation in her tone, but she tried to tone down on the frustration she’d normally be feeling in this situation – after all, it was only a week ago that Fitz had decided to stop competing with her and instead work _with_ her. She still worried sometimes that if she said the wrong thing, it would cause his dislike of her to return with a vengeance, and Jemma wasn’t sure she could handle that; Fitz was the only other student at SHIELD Academy that was her age, not to mention on her intellectual level, and none of the other students had seemed too keen on befriending the seventeen-year-old prodigies. “Just go ahead and sit down at one, and I promise you that I won’t care which it is.”

He studied her a moment longer, clearly gauging the honesty of her statement, then he nodded and plopped his backpack and stack of books down at the nearest desk, allowing Jemma to set her things down on the one opposite his. They spent a few minutes getting things settled, but then as she was shrugging into her lab coat, she turned to face Fitz.

“What do you want to do first?” she asked curiously, absently tying her hair up in a ponytail and tugging her safety goggles down onto her face.

Fitz paused in the process of pulling on his own lab coat, then smiled a bit shyly and admitted, “Well, I’ve actually jotted down a couple of ideas for projects.”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose in interest, and she walked around the side of their desks to stand beside Fitz at his. As he slowly pushed an open notebook toward her, she noticed his cheeks turning a bit pink, and it had her lips quirking up at the corners. When he began to turn to her, however, she hastily dropped her eyes, scanning the list in his cramped, messy handwriting.

“ _Fitz_ ,” she gasped, glancing up at him with wide eyes that were surely shining with delight. “These are brilliant!”

“They are?” Fitz asked in pleasant surprise.

Jemma nodded, tapping the first item on the list. “Especially these drones – calibrated specially for forensics; it’s genius, really! I can’t wait to get started.”

A grin spread across Fitz’s face, making his eyes light up in a way that Jemma hadn’t yet been witness to. He had a very _nice_ smile, she decided; she was going to do whatever she could to see it as often as possible. “Yeah, me too,” he agreed quickly, hurriedly pulling his safety goggles down over his eyes.

Over the next few hours, they worked tirelessly on figuring out a starting point and mapping out their plans for the drones, of which there would be seven, and by the time they left the lab that night, Jemma was absolutely _stunned_. She’d known, of course, that they’d get on if they’d just stop competing with one another, and that he was likely the only one on the entire campus that would be able to keep up with her.

However, she hadn’t had a clue that they’d work so _well_ together. In fact, the way they automatically seemed to be having the same thoughts in the same exact moments, allowing them to finish each other’s sentences, the harmonious way that they worked together and around each other was something she’d never experienced before.

It was then that Jemma knew, whatever it was she and Fitz had, it was _special_.

-

“Alright, we’ve got blankets, popcorn, and plenty of other snacks to tide you over; I think we’re all set,” Jemma listed as she set the bag she was carrying down. Darting a quick glance at her watch to check the time, she began to spread the blankets out across the little section of the roof of her dorm they’d chosen as Fitz knelt down and began digging through her bag for said snacks.

“What did you bring?” he asked curiously, but Jemma slapped his hand away, throwing him a reprimanding look as she sat down beside him.

“They’ve got to last you all night, and we just had dinner! You can have a snack in a little bit, alright?” Fitz frowned petulantly, but wordlessly complied (though not without a little huff as he crossed his arms over his chest). After the past month and a half of their friendship, she’d come to realize rather quickly that, if allowed, Fitz would spend an entire day just absently snacking on whatever was available if left unchecked.

Fortunately, Jemma was _always_ checking.

 “D’you think it’ll start soon?” Fitz asked, tilting his head back to squint up at the sky, where there would soon be meteors streaking past the stars.

Jemma checked the time again, then admitted, “Not for another hour or so.”

He turned to her, gaping in disbelief. “Well then _why_ did you insist on rushing up here right after dinner? You barely allowed me the time to grab an extra jumper!”

“I wanted to make sure we were ready on time!” she defended herself. “You can never be too early, only too late.”

Fitz grumbled under his breath, hunching in on himself a bit as he rolled his eyes. “Okay, so we’ve got an hour to the meteor shower, you won’t let me have a snack; what are we supposed to do to pass the time?”

Jemma mulled over his admittedly very good question, but after a moment she let out an excited gasp. “Oh! Do you see that there?” she asked, pointing up above them.

He tilted his head back once more, peering up at the sky in concentration. “What? You mean the Big Dipper?”

“Or Ursa Major, yes.” She folded her legs up against her body, wrapping her arms around them. “Do you know the story of Ursa Major?”

Fitz thought a moment, pursing his lips, but then he shook his head and admitted, “No, actually, I don’t think I do.”

A slow smile curved Jemma’s lips as she began reciting the story her father had told her many years ago to Fitz, followed by the stories of Perseus and Andromeda, Cassiopeia, and Orion. After awhile though, she abruptly cut herself off, feeling her cool cheeks sting a bit as heat filled them. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Wincing as she uncomfortably hooked her hands around her neck, she told him, “You could’ve told me to stop at any time, I didn’t mean to ramble on…”

“No!” Startled by Fitz’s sudden shout, Jemma whirled around to look at him, and found him staring at her with wide, worried eyes. “I’m listening. I want to hear more, please?”

Somehow, Jemma’s blush only grew in intensity at his words, and she could feel the warmth spreading all the way down to her toes, even in the chilly autumn night air. “Okay,” she said slowly, hesitating another moment before she went on, pointing out constellations to him and reciting their stories.

It continued on long into the night, even as meteors burned trails across the sky above them, and Jemma had never felt more overwhelmingly as though she was safe being truly herself around another person before – it was like she could be completely open and honest, and connect with Fitz in a way she couldn’t even with her parents, no matter how much they’d always tried.

She didn’t quite know what it was about Fitz, but somehow, she was beginning to find that she couldn’t remember what her life had been like before he was it in, nor did she really _want_ to remember.

-

“Oh _quit_ being such a child about this, Fitz!” Jemma groaned in exasperation, dropping her head back against the headboard of his bed, where she sat beside him with her biology text in her lap.

“I’m not being _childish_ ; I just don’t see why it’s necessary to take a class about something as gross as _biology_ when I’m engineering major!” Fitz cried defensively, making a face and pointedly looking away from the full-color, detailed illustrations on the pages of the text.

“Look, I don’t make the rules, Fitz! All I’m trying to do is help you to pass the class, squeamishness or no.” Jemma heaved a tired sigh, tilting the book back to face Fitz. “Just…suck it up for a few hours every now and then, take the tests, and then you’ll never have to deal with ‘gross biology’ again.”

Fitz heaved a put-upon sigh, taking the book back from her, though his disgusted expression only grew in intensity as he laid eyes on the pictures once more. “Alright, fine, but I _better_ not have to, or I’m holding you personally responsible, Simmons.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Rolling her eyes, she began attempting to break down the chapters they were being tested on the following day to him once more, hopefully without interruption this time.

They spent the next couple of hours going back over everything, and Jemma even went as far as to make flash cards, quizzing him on every possible bit of information that may show up on the exam. By the time the sun was dipping low in the sky, causing shadows to creep along the floor of his dorm room, they’d ended up stretched out side-by-side on his bed.

“Alright, what’s…” Jemma lifted her gaze as she raised the next flashcard between them, but the remaining sunlight was hitting him just right and she couldn’t remember if he’d been that close this whole time and _wow_ how had she never noticed how blue his eyes were?

All of a sudden, the room felt at least ten degrees warmer, and Jemma’s stomach gave an odd little roll, making her feel as though she was about to throw up. _Strange_ , she thought to herself, quickly dropping her gaze once more and taking deep, even breaths to try and calm her tumultuous stomach. Was she sick? Had she caught a bug somewhere?

“Jemma?” Fitz prompted worriedly. “Are you alright?”

Her palms were clammy and her heart was racing and Jemma _really_ didn’t want to vomit on her only friend, so without meeting his searching gaze, she scrambled up from the bed and hastily collected her things. “I’m sorry Fitz, I have to go now. Lots of um…things to do, and…all that, so…” With an awkward little wave, she left poor, confused Fitz alone in his room and rushed down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

However, almost as soon as she was alone, Jemma’s symptoms disappeared almost as quickly as she had from Fitz’s room, as though they’d never been there in the first place.

What was going _on_ with her?

-

“I’m not so sure about this, Simmons,” Fitz admitted, grimacing down at his feet, looking quite concerned.

“Nonsense, it’ll be fun once you get the hang of it,” Jemma promised as she finished securing the rollerblades she’d rented from the skating rink not far from the Academy campus. She’d been meaning to take Fitz all year, but now that it was the final day before they both returned home for the summer, she’d insisted on spending it teaching Fitz how to rollerblade.

Fitz inhaled, then released a deep breath before he nodded once firmly. “Alright, I’m trusting you, then.” Using the table they were sitting at for help, he shakily got to his feet. Almost immediately, however, he began slipping on the wheels of his skates, and Jemma hurried to lend him some support.

Together, they managed to get him actually _out_ onto the floor, but for the first half-hour he would only cling desperately to the bar along the wall. “See? You’re doing great,” Jemma encouraged as he made another pass around the rink. “Now, why don’t you try to next step and come away from the wall?”

Fitz shot a glance out at the others skating past them, the flashing lights and the pounding music, and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Jemma released a frustrated groan, gesturing widely to the group of elementary school children currently breezing past them. “ _Fitz_! There are _children_ who are bigger risk-takers than you! In order to develop a skill, you actually have to put in some effort.”

“I _am_ putting in effort; it’s the effort not to fall flat on my ass like an idiot,” he replied tightly, focusing on slowly inching his way forward with the help of the bar.

“C’mon Fitz, _please_? I promise you it’ll be fun, even if you’re falling flat on your ass – that’s just something that comes hand-in-hand with learning to rollerblade.” When Fitz glanced up, she put on her best pout, clasping her hands together beneath her chin.

It was another moment before his expression collapsed and he let out a low groan. “Oh _fine_ , you get your way, as always. _But_ , if at any point I fall, you’re buying dinner.”

“Deal!” With that, Jemma grasped Fitz’s hand, helping him to slowly come away from the wall so that she could take his other as well, skating slowly backwards as she helped him forward. They only made it a short distance away before his feet began to stumble beneath him and he couldn’t regain his balance – and when he went down, he took Jemma with him.

For a beat, neither of them moved or said a word, simply laid there in a tangle of aching limbs. Then, suddenly, Jemma couldn’t help the giggles building up in her chest and tickling at her throat. It wasn’t long before Fitz had joined in, and it took a bit of time before they could get their laughter under control enough to struggle back to their feet.

The rest of the day ended up going much the same, with Fitz consistently tripping and falling, almost always managing to take Jemma straight down with him. She still held up her end of the bargain, though, and bought their dinner before they headed back to the campus.

Even though they were both sore beyond belief and were likely to be absolutely covered in bruises within the next few days, Jemma couldn’t remember a day where she’d laughed more since she was very young. And, as they were parting ways to return to their dorms for one more night, and Fitz was playfully griping about his aching muscles, an overpowering warmth washed over Jemma, making her feel almost lightheaded. All of a sudden, she didn’t _want_ to say goodbye to him; she wanted to stay with him and spend more time just laughing and having fun and being the teenager she’d never had the chance to be.

But, with a bit of effort, she managed to shake off the strange feeling, said her goodnights to him, and returned to her dorm.

Unfortunately, saying goodbye to Fitz the next day for a whole summer was, in fact, much harder than saying goodnight after the lovely day they’d had together. As she got settled on her plane back home, Jemma had the oddest feeling that she’d forgotten something at the Academy, something _important_ , like a limb or one of her organs – but that couldn’t possibly be right.

The feeling only seemed to grow stronger the more the summer months dragged on, until Jemma could barely concentrate on anything, and she could _see_ the worried looks her parents were constantly exchanging, but she had no idea what was _wrong_ with her.

It was only once she’d returned to the Academy in the fall, and laid eyes on Fitz for the first time in months, all curly hair and pasty skin and blue eyes, that she felt she was complete again, that she could finally breathe without difficulty once more.

Jemma simply chalked it up to being back at the Academy, the first place she’d ever felt she truly belonged.

-

“Can you believe it? Perfect scores! Well, I mean, as if there was any doubt in my mind,” Jemma added, turning to throw a brilliant grin over her shoulder at Fitz. “And they say mid-terms are supposed to be _challenging_.”

“Well Simmons, they are for the normal folk, remember. Don’t wanna get too high and mighty,” Fitz reminded her teasingly, and she pointedly rolled her eyes at him.

“Oh hush, Fitz; as if the gathering of the most brilliant minds could possibly be called ‘normal folk’.” As she pushed open the door of the building and stepped out into the daylight, Jemma let out a surprised gasp. “Oh Fitz! It must’ve snowed while we were taking our exams!”

The whole campus was covered in a layer of fluffy white snow, sparkling in the mid-day sun. It was so fresh, it was even still clinging to the bare trees, painting a rather beautiful picture. “Oh, would you look at that,” Fitz commented a bit disinterestedly. “Hey, you wanna go get lunch?”

“In a minute; first, I want to make snow angels,” Jemma said abruptly, eyeing a patch of undisturbed snow not far away. When Fitz made a disbelieving noise, she turned to him and insisted, “It hasn’t snowed at all yet this year and we’ve had _such_ good day; please Fitz?”

He stayed firm for only another moment, then he heaved a sigh of surrender, allowing Jemma to tug him down beside her into the freezing cold snow. It wasn’t long before they’d finished their respective snow angels, and as her limbs slowed to a stop, she turned her head to face him and teased through her grin, “See Fitz, wasn’t that fun?”

Fitz didn’t respond at first, simply staring at her with wide eyes, blinking owlishly as though he was taken aback by something, though she hadn’t the faintest clue what that could be. When she opened her mouth to prompt him once more, he cleared his throat and said simply, “Uh, yeah.”

Frowning, Jemma sat up and cautiously stood up and away from her snow angel, holding out her hands to help a shivering Fitz up as well. She squeezed his hands with her own numb fingers, and concerned that he was acting strange because she’d made him do something he hadn’t wanted to do, she offered, “For being such a good sport, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”

“You better,” he replied, but his voice sounded slightly off to her, and she frowned, glancing worriedly at him. But, then he gave her a small smile and added, “And there had better be extra marshmellows,” and Jemma quickly forgot about it completely.

-

“Fitz?”

Jemma waited a moment, but there was no response to her prompt.

“ _Fitz_?” she tried again, but once more, there was no response.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Jemma craned her head to glance at where Fitz’s weight was resting heavily against her side. Sure enough, he was fast asleep, his head lolled to the side and lying right on her shoulder.

 _Of course_.

Before they’d started their customary Friday night Doctor Who marathon, she’d made him _promise_ that he wasn’t going to fall asleep this time. She believed, actually, that his exact words had been ‘I won’t fall asleep on you Simmons, I swear!’.

Unable to help herself, Jemma had to let out a soft snort at the irony. Of course, she couldn’t really be too upset with him this time; he’d been keeping odd hours lately, up late into the night trying to complete his final project for his engineering course, which was due in just a few weeks.

Jemma figured that she’d let it pass just this once, since he undoubtedly needed the sleep.

However, that didn’t solve the problem of how exactly she was going to free herself without waking him up, so that she could return to her own room to get some much-needed sleep as well.

Carefully, she shifted until she could glance down at him, sleeping so soundly against her shoulder, even though it no doubt was uncomfortable – he made it _look_ pretty darn comfortable, though.

Well, Jemma supposed, she could wait a little while longer and watch a couple more episodes, see if he ended up shifting away to find a new position on his own.

But, even though she was trying her level best to pay attention to what was happening on the screen in front of her, Jemma kept finding herself glancing down at Fitz (who hadn’t moved an inch, of course). He just looked so peaceful and innocent, and his adorable little snores kept bringing fond smiles to her lips. As she dropped her gaze once more, studying the way his eyelashes fanned out beneath his closed eyelids and the slight part of his lips as he released a quiet breath, Jemma felt her fingers shift against her leg.

They twitched closer and closer to Fitz, and she had to fight the sudden, desperate urge to stroke them over his cheek and brush them through his hair. It was then, with a sudden burst of clarity, that Jemma _knew_ that whatever it was she felt for Fitz, it was far more than friendship.

-

The weeks following Jemma’s late night revelation were simultaneously the best and worst of her life. It was absolutely freeing to know, quite abruptly, that she had feelings for her best friend, to have everything that had never made much sense suddenly crystal clear to her. She understood now the strange, warm, almost tingly feeling that washed over her whenever Fitz smiled at her, or she found herself getting lost in his beautiful blue eyes or he said something so utterly thoughtful and _Fitz_ that she was caught off-guard by it.

But, it was also _tortuous_ to be able to put a name to the depth of pure, unadulterated feeling inside of her, to have it begin to grow and grow once she’d acknowledged its existence. Each day, she only seemed to fall deeper and deeper for Fitz, and she knew it was nothing but trouble for her; after all, there was only one of two ways life would go after they graduated.

Either they would continue on as partners, as Agent Weaver had told them was highly likely, due to their effortless ability to work together and create revolutionary projects, and she’d have to struggle with her feelings in silence for many years to come; or, they’d be separated and sent to different SHIELD locations, and she’d never see Fitz again.

But, of course, no matter how much it hurt, Jemma would spend every single day for the rest of her life struggling to keep her feelings hidden and under control – as long as she had Fitz in her life. Even if it wasn’t exactly _ideal_ for her, she knew that any situation that kept them together was one she wanted to be in.

It wasn’t until the day of graduation, actually, that Agent Weaver pulled them aside, and finally informed them that they were being assigned to a Sci-Ops facility – _together_ , as partners.

Consumed by relief as she was, Jemma barely noticed as Agent Weaver left them to prepare for the ceremony. She turned to Fitz, giving him a wide, breathless smile. “Oh Fitz, this is _wonderful_. I was so worried!” She wasn’t going to have to live without Fitz, and dealing with hiding her feelings for him truly was a small price to pay for such a gift.

“Yeah, me too,” Fitz admitted, giving her a smile in return, though it was rather dim in comparison to hers. “Look, Jemma, I…I told myself that I’d be honest with you if we ended up being assigned together.”

Jemma frowned at the rare use of her first name; something was _very_ wrong with Fitz. “What is it?” she asked in concern, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Fitz, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He released a harsh breath, nodding. “I know, I know. I’m just…I’m scared that it’s going to ruin our friendship or change things, and you know I don’t do well with change.”

For a brief moment, Jemma had the sudden, horrifying thought that he’d somehow figured out how she felt about him, that he was about to tell her that he didn’t feel the same and he was worried that the rejection would ruin their friendship. “Fitz, _nothing_ you could say would ever hurt our friendship, alright? I promise you that.”

The promise seemed to calm him just enough, and he took a steadying breath, then stumbled out the confession, “Lately I’ve been… I don’t know where… I didn’t _mean_ for…it’s just that you…and I… What I mean is…” Obviously seeing Jemma’s bewildered expression, he rolled his eyes at himself and finally just blurted out, “I’m in love with you, Jemma. And you don’t have to say anything, I just –”

That was as far as he got before Jemma surged forward to wrap her arms around his neck, finding his lips with hers as they met in the middle. She felt more than heard the startled noise he let out against her mouth, but within moments his fumbling hands had found her waist to pull her closer, and she couldn’t even begin to stop the ridiculous smile currently tugging at her lips.

Eventually, they were both smiling so much that they had to pull away from the kiss, and Jemma found Fitz watching her in the same awe that she knew must’ve been written in her own eyes. “I had no idea you felt this way too,” she admitted, absently sliding her fingers through his hair and stroking the back of his neck; now that she was allowed to touch him freely, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to stop. “How long have you…?”

“I’m not really sure how long,” Fitz admitted, giving a little shrug and blushing lightly. “But I realized it the day of our mid-terms, when you made me lay down in a _snow pile_ and make a bloody snow angel.”

“ _Really_?” Jemma asked in utter disbelief. Nothing about that moment stood out to her as overly romantic – though, now that she thought about it, she could remember his strange behavior immediately following said event.

“Yeah.” He gave her a shy little smile, idly tracing the shape of her waist and the curve of her spine with his fingertips as he explained, “You had turned to smile at me, with snowflakes clinging to your hair and your cheeks all rosy and it just took my breath away and I well…I dunno, I just knew that I’d do anything to make you smile like that.”

Jemma bit her lip to hold back on the giddy little grin that was currently trying to break across her face. “Oh,” she said simply.

“And…um…what about you?” he asked, seeming a bit uncomfortable as he dropped his gaze from hers. “Was it just now, or…are you not really sure…?”

“Oh no, I’m sure,” she promised, leaning in to rest her forehead against his so that she could find his gaze with hers once more; she refused to let him think for even a moment that she didn’t truly feel the same. “It was a couple of weeks ago, during that Doctor Who marathon; you know, when you promised not to fall asleep.” He smiled a bit sheepishly at the reminder. “You, of course, _did_ end up falling asleep, only it was right on my shoulder and I just…couldn’t seem to look away – you were adorable, of course – and I wanted to sit there all night long watching you sleep and it just…became clear, I suppose.”

“Because I fell _asleep_ on you?” Fitz asked incredulously. “That’s it?”

“Well you realized it because I _smiled_ at you!” Jemma reminded him indignantly.

He made a face, then gave her waist a little squeeze. “Oh alright, I suppose they’re both rather simple. But the important thing is, they happened, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “and now I get to do this.” She tilted her head, closing her eyes as her lips found his once more and her arms tightened around his neck. As he gave a surprised moan, she deepened the kiss, burying her fingers in his hair to keep him right where she wanted him.

It was a long, wonderfully dizzying moment before they parted this time, and Fitz had to blink a couple of times to focus as he murmured, “A very important benefit, yes.”

Just then, Jemma heard a call of, “Fitzsimmons!” and she leaned back from Fitz to find one of their classmates a ways away, waving at them. “Ceremony’s about to start!”

“We’ll be right there!” Jemma called, but as she turned back to Fitz, something of great importance suddenly occurred to her. Urgently, she told him, “Fitz, we have to promise that no matter what happens, we won’t let SHIELD split us up – Section Seventeen be damned.”

“Of course,” he promised immediately, his grip on her hips tightening just slightly. “We’re better together, and SHIELD knows that. If they’re as smart as they claim to be, they won’t split us up over something as simple as…y’know…being in love.”

Jemma released a shaky breath, nodding in agreement. “Right.” Still, she tugged Fitz back into her embrace, burying her face in his shoulder and soaking up his warm, breathing in his familiar scent. “Because that’s where we belong; together.”

“Always,” Fitz agreed softly, the words whispered against her temple as he placed a kiss there.

Jemma knew then that, no matter where life took them from there, whether it was with SHIELD or otherwise, she and Fitz would be together through it all. Together truly was where they belonged –even when they hadn’t be able to see it for what it was, together was where they’d _always_ belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	44. Season 2 AU - Chitauri Virus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "AU where everything is the same but jemma gets infected with the alien virus in season 2, 3 or 4, that's up to you".

Jemma Simmons was completely and utterly tired of aliens and the messes they left behind.

When Coulson had gathered up her, Skye, Fitz, and May on a trip to investigate a floating body, Jemma had known nothing good could possibly come from it. Whatever had caused it was obviously alien, and Coulson had been worried that it might have something to do with the Obelisk (even after it’d been destroyed in the temple) or possibly even HYDRA – neither of which spelled out anything good for them.

Unfortunately, it had taken two more victims for them to realize that the cause was a virus left in a Chitauri helmet, and Jemma couldn’t help but feel responsible for more deaths; if they’d only just figured it out sooner…

However, they had the helmet in their possession, and had loaded it onto the Bus to take with them to another SHIELD base Coulson had gotten back up and running, that would further study and take care of it. Along the way, Jemma had begun the study, though, and she was so sick of anything to do with aliens that she couldn’t even find it in her to be amazed at how the virus spread from person to person through electrostatic shock, something never before seen on Earth.

And, it was just par for the course that Jemma herself would end up with the virus; really, she wasn’t even surprised any more by the terrible luck they all seemed to have when it came to things like this.

According to her calculations, she figured that she must have contracted the virus thirty-six hours ago, which left her with only two hours now to figure out a solution – or remove herself from the situation, which she would if it came down to it. But, so far, nothing she’d tried seemed to work, because how could it when she didn’t understand anything about this virus?

Through the glass doors of what used to be the lab on the Bus (it was considered the garage now, even though she’d been using it as her lab during this mission), she could see Fitz working on the delivery mechanism she’d need for her antiserum. His hands were shaking terribly, seeming to make the job much harder than it should’ve been.

She almost wanted to say… _something_ , try and find the words to calm him down even just a bit, but she held her tongue; they still weren’t quite on even terms after the way he’d kept Skye’s powers hidden from her, not to mention his hurt over her own lies and disappearance to HYDRA.

Finally, he finished, sparing her a brief glance as he carefully placed the mechanism in the drawer, allowing her to retrieve it on the other side of the glass. She offered him a grateful smile, at least, but he missed it with his gaze locked firmly on the ground.

With a quiet sigh, Jemma loaded the antiserum into Fitz’s delivery mechanism, mentally crossing her fingers that the antibodies would do as they were supposed to and target the virus’s antigens – that was, if the virus even _had_ antigens. Knowing her luck? It wouldn’t.

She could feel all eyes on her as she picked up the second lab rat, swiftly delivering the antiserum and waiting a moment, but the rat then released a pulse and began to float in its glass container. Releasing a shaky breath, she glanced up to find Skye’s wide, worried eyes, even as she followed May and Coulson up the stairs to the second level of the Bus.

Fitz, however, lingered, wringing his hands and shifting anxiously, and she heard him inhale deeply before he murmured, “It’s…it’s gonna be okay.”

But, then she noticed him darting a quick glance at the watch on his wrist, and she rolled her eyes as she snapped, “I see you looking at your watch, Fitz. You don’t need to lie to me to make me feel better; I’ve already had enough of it as it is.”

He visibly bristled at the implication, taking a couple of steps closer until he was right in front of the glass partition. “What d’you want me to say, then?”

“Nothing! Just don’t say anything! It seems every time we talk, things only get worse!” Jemma threw her hands up in exasperation, fighting back the tears she could feel burning along the rims of her eyes. They’d been so close to the surface lately with every horrible thing after another, and now this virus and her likely upcoming death, coupled with the reminder that she couldn’t seem to find a way to salvage her relationship with her best friend – it was all too much.

“S’not just…I’m not the only one re…whose fault it is, y’know!” Fitz reminded her stubbornly, planting his hands on his hips and scowling down at the ground. “You’re…I don’t…what happened, Jemma?”

Jemma couldn’t help the watery, slightly unhinged laugh she let out at that question, shaking her head as she replied, “ _Everything_ , Fitz. Everything awful that could possibly happen, happened, and…and that’s why – _this_ ,” she gestured harshly toward herself, “is why I’m afraid of everything alien, Fitz. It’s why we _all_ should be. We don’t understand them or their technology or their viruses and people get hurt because of that, people _die_ because of that.”

Fitz’s head rose quickly, his eyes rounded and terrified as he said hurriedly, “You’re not gonna die.”

Giving a weary sigh, Jemma closed her aching eyes briefly and murmured, “Remember when you said we’d regret the decision to go into the field someday? Well Fitz, you were right because I very much do; going into the field was one of the biggest mistakes we’ve ever made.”

“ _We_?” he repeated incredulously. “ _I_ was doing just fine, stuck in a lab and I wasn’t…I was okay, not all…damaged and _useless_.” Angrily, he shook out his bad hand, which Jemma could see was practically vibrating, it was trembling so badly.

Finally, the frustration she’d had building up inside of her for _months_ now spilled over, and she fairly cried at him, “Fitz! You’re not damaged _now_! Can’t you see that? What happened was just a…a setback, something to readjust to. And against all odds, you’ve done that and more, you’re doing so _well_ ; you can still do what you love and maybe it’s not the same as it used to be but…but you’re _alive_ and that’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.” Finding Fitz gaping blankly at her, Jemma sniffled back the tears once more and said stiffly, “I just wanted to say that before…before I never got the chance to, that’s all.”

Fitz inhaled a shaky breath, stepping a bit closer to the partition as he murmured seriously, “Jemma…you have to fix this.”

“I don’t know _how_ , Fitz,” she admitted tiredly. “The antibodies from the three firefighters aren’t strong enough to fight this virus. It’s born from alien DNA.” She couldn’t quite help the bitter tone of her voice as she reminded him of that fact. “There’s no one to create an antiserum from because no one’s actually survived this except…”

“The Chitauri,” they finished in the same moment, gazing at each other through the glass with wide, watery eyes.

“The one wearing that helmet…must’ve had the virus,” Fitz started, the words slow and calculated as the revelation began to hit him.

“Yes, and managed to survive without ever emitting an electrostatic pulse because…”

“It was immune.”

“Yes!” Jemma released a little, disbelieving laugh. “They were just the carrier, like Typhoid Mary.”

Fitz nodded rapidly in agreement, absently gesturing in the direction of the stairs as he said, “So I can just…I’ll take some…um…cells from the helmet and…”

“We can create an antiserum, yes,” she finished, beaming in relief as she watched Fitz scramble up the stairs to retrieve the helmet. While she was waiting on him, Jemma couldn’t help but think of how this was the first time in so _long_ that they were on the same page, that they’d been able to finish each other sentences and be on the same wavelength.

Oh, how she’d _missed_ it, missed _him_.

Moments later, Fitz came rushing back down the stairs, carrying the container with the helmet in it. Before she could register what he was doing, though, he’d unlocked the lab doors and burst inside. “No!” she cried, watching in despair as the doors closed once more behind him; she just _couldn’t_ allow him to get sick as well, not because of her. “Fitz, you can’t be in here!”

“S’already done,” Fitz stated, shaking his head as he set the container down on the lab table. Meeting her gaze over it, he told her firmly, “We’re gonna fix this, Jemma. Together.”

Jemma just couldn’t say no to that, not after the months she’d spent agonizing over how much she missed Fitz, missed working side-by-side with him, missed the thrill of completing another successful project together. Besides, as they worked seamlessly together to create an antiserum from the epithelial cells in the helmet, Jemma felt her life was nothing but safe with Fitz’s hands involved in the process.

And, even if it didn’t work, at least she’d have the memory of working together one last time to take with her.

When they were finished, Fitz asked to be the one to test it out on the final lab rat, and so Jemma stepped back to watch as he administered the antiserum, and she could see Skye, Coulson, and May watching just as intently from the other side of the glass. When nothing happened, Jemma felt as though a hundred pounds had been lifted from her shoulders as she and Fitz shared a smile. “We did it,” she whispered in relief.

Then, she heard the crackle of electricity and saw the flickering blue light out of the corner of her eye. And just like that, her last hope was dashed. _She was going to die_.

No longer able to hold back her tears, Jemma assured that Coulson would get the news to her father rather than her mother, then asked of the three, “Would you mind if I had a brief moment alone with Fitz?”

As May and Coulson led a tear-soaked Skye upstairs, Jemma turned back to Fitz, wiping away her own tears from her cheeks, resolve washing over her. He’d turned back to the lab bench, and his whole body was practically trembling as he rambled on, “Just gotta…another try that’s all. This time it…the pulse was um…much less and…”

With shaking hands, Jemma began to lift the fire extinguisher in her hands, wishing that this wasn’t the way it had to end between them (wishing it didn’t have to end at all). But, she found herself hesitating; firstly because Fitz had already had a head injury and she’d feel positively awful giving him another (even if this one would be nowhere near as bad as the first), and then, because she suddenly had a flash of memory from the pod, of Fitz saying that he couldn’t live if she didn’t.

She didn’t know if he still felt that way (but, she could guess from his reaction just now that he might), and she couldn’t help but be afraid – what would happen to Fitz if she died?

But, if she stayed, there was no doubt that she would kill him and everyone else on the Bus with the pulse, and she could not allow that to happen.

So, Jemma took a deep breath, forced back her tears, and allowed herself just one more moment to memorize Fitz; how he looked just then, his face and his voice and the hunch of his shoulders as he bent over the lab table, the way he smelled (he’d changed aftershaves while she’d been away at HYDRA, and she’d only just started to get used to the change). Then, she closed her eyes and brought the fire extinguisher down against the back of his head, trying to be as gentle as possible while still temporarily knocking him unconscious.

Just as she was stepping out onto the ramp of the cargo-hold, the wind whipping at her hair, Jemma just had to glance back one last time. Her heart leapt into her throat as she saw a distressed Fitz awake and attempting to pry open the doors, wild-eyed and terrified as he screamed at her not to do it.

For just a moment, she felt a surge of regret that she’d never gotten the chance to tell him that he was more than that too. But, she ultimately decided that knowing about her feelings wouldn’t have done him any good, and it likely would’ve been too much for him in the end, so perhaps it was better this way.

Offering Fitz one last, sad smile, Jemma stepped back off the edge of the ramp and fell through the air, knowing that at least he was safe.

-

Sometime later, a very much alive (and thankfully now dry) Jemma was just leaving Coulson’s office after being promptly scolded for pulling such a stunt when they absolutely couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. She was fortunate enough to have been followed by May, with a parachute and the actually very effective antiserum, but Jemma still couldn’t regret doing it. After all, if the antiserum _hadn’t_ worked, she would’ve saved four lives, ones that would no doubt go on to save the world from HYDRA and whatever other threats were waiting for them.

It’d been an easy enough trade to make, but not one that she took lightly, of course.

Automatically, her feet began to take her in the direction of Fitz’s old bunk, but she forced them to stop as she wondered whether or not he’d even want to see her. But, ultimately, she knew that they needed to talk regardless, so she continued the journey, gently knocking on the closed door and sliding it open at his muttered invitation.

Inside, she found him hugging a pillow and absently rubbing at his bad hand. As she perched lightly on the edge of the bed beside him, he pointedly kept his eyes lowered. She waited a couple of beats, then he finally asked, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Jemma asked softly.

“About…um…” He lifted his bad hand, giving it a little shake. “Me not being…damaged.”

“Of course,” she assured him, releasing a quiet sigh. “Fitz, I’ve always thought that; you just needed time.” Allowing her eyes to slip closed, Jemma’s shoulders rose and fell on another, heavy sigh as she finally admitted, “The reason I left, why I went to HYDRA…it was because I made you worse, Fitz. I’d been hindering your progress, I could _see_ it happening, so I left – for _you_ , to help you.” Shaking her head at herself, she added, “That was no excuse to lie to you, I know, but that was for you, too, so that you wouldn’t spend all your time worrying about me, and instead you could focus on healing and adjusting. And, well…you did lie to me too, if you’ll remember.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and Jemma allowed him the time she’d already known he’d need to soak in her admission. Then, he scoffed, causing her eyes to reopen in surprise. “I’m always worrying about you,” he muttered, giving a jerky little shrug. “Especially when you’re jumping out of planes.” He was quiet a moment, then gave a sigh. “And I’m sorry for…for keeping things from you, but…but you were acting like…I mean, the alien stuff, you were…”

Jemma cut him off there, asking quietly, “Do you understand why I was being so cautious about it now?”

He grimaced, nodding firmly. “I do.” There was another beat of silence, though it was a bit less tense with the apologies and explanations out in the open, which was giving Jemma hope that maybe they _could_ fix things after all. “Y’know,” he started suddenly, “I was…I was gonna jump after you.”

Startled, Jemma turned quickly to face him. “Well I’m glad you didn’t,” she stated, clasping her hands tightly together in her lap to keep them from trembling, “you don’t need to be risking your life for me ever again, alright?”

Finally, Fitz turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised as he said plainly, “I can’t…I’m not gonna promise you that.”

In utter disbelief, she demanded, “And why not? You know what happened last time, you know the consequences and obviously it wasn’t worth it – you nearly _died_!”

“And if I hadn’t done it, _you_ would have!” Fitz reminded her sharply.

Jemma felt that familiar frustration and hopelessness with the situation bubbling up once more; he apparently hadn’t learned anything from what had happened in the pod. “I don’t know why you have to be so stubborn,” she told him, rising from the bed and going to leave before things could get worse once more.

“You know why,” Fitz replied lowly, stopping her in her tracks. With her back still to him, he said softly, “I _told_ you why, in the…the um…the pod, and I’m sorry but it’s true, okay? I tried to…to forget, to not feel…” He trailed off, giving a tense sigh, but then he went on, “Even if I’d…if it’d worked, I’d still rather die in your place.”

She briefly closed her eyes and shook her head, then went to sit back down next to him. “You shouldn’t, Fitz. It’s just…it’s not worth it.”

“It _is_ ,” he disagreed, his voice quiet but firm.

Jemma glanced up then, finding him closer than she’d expected him to be, and she had the sudden, desperate urge to close the scant space between them and kiss him (and she had a pretty good feeling that he wouldn’t fight her on it). But, she managed to tamp down on the urge; there was still so much unresolved hurt and damage done to their relationship, they still needed some time to heal from it all.

So, instead, she offered him a small smile. “Thank you Fitz, for helping me in the lab, helping me to figure it all out. I couldn’t have done it without you, and whether I like it or not, you continue to be a hero.” With that, she leaned in and indulged in pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek, lingering only a couple of moments longer than was likely considered friendly.

Leaving a slightly dazed Fitz alone in the bunk, Jemma hoped that what had happened today was the first step to mending their damaged relationship, to restoring what they’d had before the distance and the lies and the hurt.

And perhaps, someday soon, she wouldn’t _have_ to decide against kissing him when the opportunity arose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	45. FitzDaisy Brotp + Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "FitzDaisy undercover + 'For someone with a girlfriend, you have terrible game.'"

When Daisy arrived in Coulson’s office, her confusion was written plainly on her face as her eyes landed on Fitz, leaning back against the desk. “Hey, where’s Simmons?” she asked, glancing around, as though she’d simply missed her. “I thought you guys had that undercover op tonight?”

“We do,” Fitz answered, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing.

“Simmons is a bit…busy at the moment,” Coulson explained delicately, wincing as he tried to tiptoe around the truth.

“Doing what?” Daisy asked, arching an eyebrow as she glanced between the two men.

Fitz made a face, then admitted bluntly, “Vomiting.” When Daisy’s eyes grew wide, he elaborated, “She caught some kind of twenty-four hour bug; y’know, coughing, sneezing, puking – the works. So…no ops for her until she’s able to go a full twenty minutes without losing her lunch.”

Understanding dawned on Daisy’s face then. “ _Oh_ , so I’m her replacement, then?”

“That’s the idea, yes,” Coulson answered with a nod, passing her the file on the op.

As Daisy began to scan through it, she let out a peel of laughter, lifting her head to stare at Fitz in delighted surprise. “‘Mr. and Mrs. Wilson’? Does that mean we’ll be undercover as a _married couple_?”

“Well, technically, it’s _Dr. and Dr._ Wilson,” Fitz corrected, rubbing a hand over the back as his neck as he finished reluctantly, “but…yes.”

“Oh _sweet_ , I get to be a doctor!” Daisy continued to flick through the file, tossing Fitz a mischievous smirk as she promised, “And don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you this time – don’t want you losing your cool like you did on the train.”

“Now, I resent that,” Fitz started with a huff, planting his hands on his hips, “I simply was not _prepared_ , that’s all. You took me by surprise. But I promise you, I can take anything you dish out, no need to go easy on me; I’ve gotten much more experience since then.” When Daisy arched a suggestive eyebrow at him, he hastily tacked on, “Being _undercover_.”

Coulson glanced between the two of them, his lips pressed together to no doubt hide the smile of amusement he couldn’t quite keep from showing in his eyes. “Do you think you can handle it, then?”

“Absolutely,” Daisy assured him with a smile and a nod. “You can count on me and the hubby.”

“Save it for the op, will you?” Fitz requested with a weary sigh.

“That’s what you’re always saying; don’t you love me anymore?” Daisy didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, her dramatic tone indicative of just how much fun she was already having.

“I _mean_ it, Daisy.”

“ _Fine_.”

-

As they pulled up outside the extravagant hotel where the very high profile benefit was being held, rich business people ready to invest in all the newest in science and technology, Daisy let out a low whistle. “Nice place,” she commented, barely remembering to wait for Fitz to hurry around the back of the car and help her out. Turning to Fitz, she grinned widely and asked, “You ready?”

“I suppose so,” he answered, straightening his tie and smoothing his shirt. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

“You really know how to romance a girl, don’t you, Fitz?” she teased. The moment they stepped through the glass front doors, she latched onto his arm, cozying up to him and saying just a bit too loudly, “Oh honey, thank you _so_ much for bringing me here tonight. Not only do I get to see you all dressed up and looking so handsome I’m weak in the knees, but it gives me a chance to dress up for once. You’re too _sweet_.”

Fitz had _known_ she’d probably end up laying it on thick to prove some kind of point, but he hadn’t expected so much so soon and unfortunately, he found himself quite flustered by it – _again_ , damn it. “Well you…um…you look…” He trailed off, and tilted his head down to find Daisy watching him impatiently. Out of the corner of his eye, he also noticed some of the other people milling around in the lobby beginning to glance over curiously. Finally, he just blurted out, “Fine. You look…fine.”

Daisy then treated him to the most exaggerated eye-roll he’d ever seen – which was really saying something after spending over a decade finding himself on the business end of Jemma Simmons’s epic eye-rolls. “Thanks, _honey_ ,” she said pointedly, using her grip on his arm to drag him away before anyone nearby started to grow suspicious. As they entered into the vast, opulent ballroom, Fitz could feel his cheeks warming with an embarrassed blush. “You know,” Daisy leaned in to hiss at him, “for someone with a girlfriend, you have terrible game.”

Clearing his throat and shifting a bit to give himself time to regain his bearings, Fitz then scoffed and asked her, “Do you really think I _flirted_ my way into a relationship with Jemma?”

Her slightly irritated expression cleared up then as she let out a little chuckle. “Okay, you’re right – I’d say you definitely stumbled your way into _that_ relationship. And, of course, Jemma did most of the steering.”

Grimacing, Fitz folded his arms over his chest and muttered, “That’s enough about that, thank you.”

“No, wait, I’m not done yet,” she insisted, recapturing his attention. “I’ve actually been waiting to get you alone.”

He held up a hand, stopping her there as he said sternly, “If you’re about to make a joke implying that you’ve been waiting this long to get into my pants, I’m walking away right now, Daisy.”

However, she quickly shook her head, reaching out to grab his arm, as though to make sure he wouldn’t follow through on his threat. “No, I’m serious! I haven’t been able to find the opportunity to ask you why you haven’t done it yet.”

Throwing a skeptical look at her, Fitz asked warily for clarification. “ _It_?”

“You know,” she raised her eyebrows pointedly, “that thing I helped you pick out _months_ ago now?”

Recognition finally dawned, and he shuffled awkwardly and avoided her gaze as he replied lowly, “I’m getting to it, alright?” He could tell she was about to say something more on the subject, but thankfully, at that moment he laid eyes on their target, hovering near the bar. “It’s Cross!”

Dr. Curtis Cross was said target, a young genius who was suspected of selling valuable and incredibly dangerous information to criminals. He’d been on SHIELD’s radar for some time now, and that night was the first time they’d found a window to make a move on him. Coulson had made sure to stress the importance of this op succeeding to them both before they’d left the base.

“Let’s go,” Daisy said, focused right back on the mission as she hooked her arm through Fitz’s once more. As they headed in Cross’s direction, she was practically hanging off of his arm, giggling at his jokes and keeping her eyes locked on his, making it seem as though she was utterly distracted by him.

When they brushed past Cross, however, Daisy ‘accidentally’ bumped into him, planting the tracker Fitz had designed that would automatically begin recording all of his digital endeavors from the moment it had been planted. “Hey!” he yelped, his drink sloshing in his glass as he was jostled.

“I’m so sorry!” Daisy cried, batting her eyes innocently up at him. “I was just so caught up in my pumpkin pie, I wasn’t looking where I was going!”

“ _Pumpkin pie_?” Fitz repeated in a grumble, barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. However, he couldn’t quite do the same for the grunt he gave when Daisy elbowed him sharply in the ribs for the comment.

“That’s…alright,” Cross muttered, barely sparing them another glance before he strode off, disappearing into the crowd.

Daisy turned back to Fitz, removing her phone from her clutch and glancing down at the information she was already getting from the tracker. “And now we wait,” she said.

“And now we wait,” Fitz repeated, nodding in agreement.

Making sure to stick to the fringes of the party, Fitz and Daisy made a bit of small talk with a couple of other attendees, trying to blend in as much as possible while Daisy kept a sharp eye on her phone. Finding themselves with a moment alone, though, she abruptly asked out of the blue, “Are you scared?”

Bewildered, Fitz turned to her and answered dryly, “After ending up stranded at the bottom of the ocean and forced through a portal to an alien planet, I’d have to say that this is op is quite low on the ‘scary’ scale, so _no_ , I’m rather fine thank you.”

Daisy leveled him with an impatient look. “ _No_ , Fitz, not about this op; about that thing we were talking about earlier.” He understood exactly what she was getting at, but he wasn’t any more interested in discussing it now than he had been earlier, so he stayed silent. “You have no reason to be scared, Fitz,” she told him gently, “I know everything will work out.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Fitz dragged a hand through his hair and finally admitted, “That’s not it, okay? I already know what’ll happen, but…I just want it to be perfect. After everything else that’s been ruined and twisted for us…I won’t let this be as well.”

They both were distracted then when Daisy’s phone gave a little _beep_ , an alert popping up indicating that the target was downloading a rather sizable, questionable file at that moment. Without a word, they hurried off toward his position, as indicated by the tracker, though still making sure to seem perfectly normal and casual as they crossed the ballroom.

The tracking system led them to a hotel room on the fourth floor, and as they lingered outside the door, Fitz could hear voices on the other side, Cross conversing with someone else. He couldn’t hear more than snippets here and there, but it was enough to be able to tell that there was definitely a deal going on in there.

Daisy was focused on her phone, using the camera built into the tracker to take some snapshots of the second man, and she whispered to him, “ _Fitz_ , I think it’s Pittman.”

Fitz raised a concerned eyebrow, peering over Daisy’s shoulder at the screen. Jacob Pittman was a weapons dealer who had also been on their radar, though he was rather new in comparison to Cross; he was considered especially dangerous, however, due to his special interest in alien tech. “That can’t be a good combination.”

Suddenly, Daisy’s head rose and she asked tightly, “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” He frowned, straining his ears to try and find whatever it was she was talking about.

“ _Footsteps_!” She grasped his hand, yanking him along behind her as she darted down the hall, all-but leaping into a storage closet and hastily pulling the door shut behind them. Not a moment later, the sound of a door opening could be heard down the hall, followed by muffled voices.

“That was a close one,” Fitz commented in an undertone, releasing a relieved breath as he sagged back against the wall behind him.

Daisy was quiet for a beat as the conversation in the hall continued, but then she whispered unexpectedly, “I get that you don’t want to ruin this too, but I just don’t see that happening, Fitz. It doesn’t need to be absolutely perfect; you just need to take a leap of faith and go for it. Anyway that it happens will be perfect in its own way, alright?”

Already quite tired of the conversation he never wanted to have in the first place, Fitz only offered a weary sigh in response, leading the way cautiously out of the closet once the voices had faded, then disappeared completely.

They stayed for the rest of the benefit, but Cross didn’t do much else, and left as soon as the party was over – however, the information they’d already gotten on him was enough. As they climbed into the car Mack had had idling outside and waiting on them, Daisy commented, “I’m no doubt going to have to spend the rest of my night going through that file Cross’s tracker copied.”

“Well, at least we’ve finally got something on him,” Mack replied optimistically from the front seat. “It’s about damn time.”

“Amen,” Daisy agreed, nodding and leaning back against her seat, turning to face Fitz beside her. “What about you, Fitz? Got any plans for the rest of the night?”

Fitz pursed his lips, absently tapping his fingertips against his thigh as he admitted, “I’ve got something in mind, yeah.”

-

Gently, Fitz knocked on the door before pushing it open, entering the bunk he shared with Jemma. “How are you feeling?” he asked sympathetically as he closed the door behind him, eyeing Jemma where she lay bundled up in the blankets, looking pale, sweaty, and tired.

“Don’t even ask me that,” Jemma moaned, her voice rough and scratchy from the near-constant coughing and vomiting. “How did it go tonight?”

“We think we’ve got him,” he answered, glad to give her at least some good news.

She smiled in relief. “Oh Fitz, that’s wonderful. I’m still sorry I couldn’t be of any help like this, though.”

“It’s alright, Daisy and I had it, and you needed to rest.” Stepping away from the door, he walked around to her side of the bed, reaching out for her hand lying on top of the covers.

However, Jemma hastily retracted it, giving him a wide-eyed, concerned look. “No! I don’t want you to get sick too!”

Fitz smiled softly as he told her, “I think I can brave it.” When he tried once more, she allowed him to take his hand in hers, and he idly stroked his thumb over her clammy skin.

“Fitz…what are you doing?” she asked confusedly, furrowing her brow.

Taking a deep breath, he began to explain, “I’ve been so concerned with the moment being absolutely perfect, that I’d lost sight of what was truly important, and that’s us and our love, our future.” Jemma seemed to understand then what was happening, her eyebrows rising in disbelief. But, before she could get a word in, Fitz was down on one knee and holding out the ring box he’d had since he’d taken Daisy ring shopping with him months ago. “Jemma Anne Simmons, will you marry me?”

She stared blankly at him for a beat, then let out an incredulous little laugh (which became a bit more of a cough halfway through). “I can’t believe you’re asking me to marry you after I’ve spent the past twelve hours vomiting.”

“In sickness and in health,” he reminded her with a smile and a slight shrug.

Jemma rolled her eyes, even as she was grinning, and finally answered, “Yes, Fitz. _Of course_ it’s a yes.”

Grinning, Fitz removed the ring from the box, carefully sliding it onto her finger before rising to kiss her, even though she half-heartedly tried to stop him from getting more of her sick germs.

When they parted, she lovingly palmed his cheek and said, “If it’s really ‘in sickness and in health’, then you get up here and lay with me; I’m sick and I’ve had to go all day without my favorite pillow.”

“Not even married yet and you’re already making demands,” Fitz teased, already kicking off his shoes and climbing under the blankets to scoot right up beside her.

“What’re you talking about? I’ve been demanding since we met,” Jemma mumbled, seemingly more concerned with cuddling up to Fitz, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing contentedly.

“And I wouldn’t have you any other way,” he murmured lovingly, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

It wasn’t long before Jemma had fallen asleep, her shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as Fitz absently played with the ring now sitting on her finger, a big, stupid grin seeming to be permanently stamped on his face.

However, when his phone went off and he scanned the text he’d received, the grin faded as confusion set in.

_From: Daisy  
Perhaps you do have some game after all…_

“What the… _hell_?” Fitz muttered to himself, wondering what Daisy could possibly mean by that. What could’ve possibly prompted her to say that in the mere hour that had passed since they’d gone their separate ways?

Then, it occurred to him – the proposal! But…how could she…?

Gasping, he glanced down, and sure enough, found his own miniscule tracker attached to the collar of his shirt.

“ _Seriously_ , Daisy?” he hissed as he removed the tracker, pointedly turning it off before carefully setting it aside on the bedside table, all the while taking care not to jostle Jemma. Moments later, he received another text.

_From: Daisy  
Sorry!! But I wanted to see if you’d actually go through with it – congratulations!!!! I’m so happy for you guys – and for me, because I totally won fifty bucks off of Mack because he bet you wouldn’t propose for another month and a half… But I’m mostly happy for you two!!_

Fitz rolled his eyes, even as a fond smile ticked up the corners of his lips. _Of course_ , he should’ve known, really. But, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset, not when he was lying in bed with Jemma Simmons, his fiancée, his soon-to-be _wife_.

So, instead, he texted her back a short, simple message.

_To: Daisy  
Thank you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	46. Childhood AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year, as a part of the 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks post over on tumblr; Week 44, "A story that takes place the year you were born" (1996)

“My grandmother’s dead.”

Jemma doesn’t register Fitz’s quiet admission at first, just humming noncommittally as she directs her entire focus onto her homework. After all, she’s been waiting months for her new school in America to allow her to skip classes like her old one back in Sheffield had, and this is the first time she’s been challenged in too long – excepting when she and Fitz get into their regular debates, of course.

Then, however, she runs back over what he’s said, and Jemma gasps, lifting her wide-eyed gaze from her science textbook to Fitz’s wobbling chin across the coffee table in her living room. “ _Fitz_ ,” she whispers, not sure what else to say. Jemma counts herself rather lucky that she’s gotten nine years into her life without having to directly deal with death – as such, she’s not entirely sure what the proper response is when your new best friend tells you that his beloved grandmother has died.

“My mum got a call this morning,” he goes on, dropping his eyes to watch as his hands twist together in his lap. “Said it was sudden but she wasn’t in pain so…so I guess that’s good, right?”

“Right,” she assures him, even though she’s not sure either. Hesitantly, she reaches across the table, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I just…I dunno what…I mean, she and my mum were all I had, y’know?” Fitz glances up at her sadly, a searching look in his eyes.

Jemma actually _doesn’t_ know – her family is absolutely _massive_. Holiday gatherings back in England are an event to be sure, with all of her aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents and great-aunts and great-uncles. But, she knows that’s not what he needs to hear.

However, something in her tells her that maybe he doesn’t just need her to say that she understands. They’ve only been friends a short time (though it feels so much longer), and for all her great amounts of knowledge, Jemma still isn’t very good with social situations, but regardless she gives his shoulder a squeeze, smiles softly at him, and murmurs, “You have me too, Fitz. You’ll always have me.”

Immediately, she knows that it was the right thing to say. His face lights up and a smile begins to twitch at the corners of his lips. “Yeah?” he asks quietly, his tone slightly unsure.

“Yeah,” she confirms instantly and firmly.

“Okay.” He hesitates a moment, then lifts one of his hands to cover hers on his shoulder, and Jemma can’t help the way that her smile grows. Abruptly, he says, “Come with me.”

Her smile fades into a frown as she tilts her head in confusion. “Go with you where?” Though Jemma prides herself on being rational, she has the sudden and absurd thought that the answer didn’t matter; she’d go anywhere with her best friend in the world, all he has to do is ask. However, she shakes that off, because it’s really quite insane and not to mention impossible – and really, they are both nine years old, so it’s not as though there are many places they can go.

“My mum and I, we have t’go back to Scotland for the funeral and I…I don’t wanna be alone,” Fitz admits, his words rushed toward the beginning of his statement, but slowing down at his admission of fearing being alone.

“You won’t be alone,” Jemma points out, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You’ll have your mum, of course.”

“That’s different,” he insists, shaking his head, and she’s disconcerted to see his eyes shining with what appears to be unshed tears. “I…I want you there, Jemma. I don’t know if…I dunno what I’d do without you there.” He sniffles, quickly looking away, but the light shines just right and she can see the tears that manage to leak out and roll down his cheeks.

Jemma knows that she shouldn’t make promises she can’t keep, but she doesn’t care. All she cares about is making Fitz happy, so she gives his shoulder another gentle squeeze and promises solemnly, “Then I’ll come with you.”

-

After Jemma had (much to her shame) cried to her parents about making the trip to Scotland with Fitz and his mum, sobbing about how she didn’t want him to be alone, they had caved and bought her a plane ticket to Glasgow. The relief on Fitz’s face when she’d shared the news alone had made the manipulation of her parents entirely worth it.

Now, however, she finds herself sitting uncomfortably in a pew in a church in Glasgow, her eyes darting away from and back to the coffin that held Fitz’s grandmother, Evelyn. Though Jemma is a very logical and educated nine-year-old, she still has never been around anyone that was dead before (though if her career goes the way she plans for it to, she’ll eventually be spending quite a bit of time around the deceased), and it is very… _strange_.

However, then she feels a hand wrap around hers and squeeze it tight, and Jemma forgets about how uncomfortable she is. She isn’t here for her, she’s here for _Fitz_.

She turns to him, sitting between her and his mother, and her heart gives a painful throb in her chest when she sees the tears streaming down his cheeks. She isn’t quite sure what to do; all she knows is that she needs to do something to help him. So, without thinking it through, she tucks the sleeve of her brand new black dress down around her free hand and lifts it, wiping clumsily at his tears.

Surprised, Fitz turns to her, sniffling, and when she smiles gently at him, he musters up a watery but grateful smile in return.

For the rest of the service, Jemma dutifully holds Fitz’s hand, offering whatever comfort she can. Though it doesn’t feel like much to her, the gesture seems to mean quite a bit to Fitz, if the way he often squeezes her hand gratefully is any indication.

After the service has finished, they make the short trip to a nearby cemetery, and as their small group (consisting only of Evelyn’s close friends, with Fitz’s mum, Fitz, and Jemma being the only exceptions) stands around a hole in the ground on a grassy hill, Jemma suddenly realizes how quickly the temperature has dropped while they’d been inside the church. In her pretty but thin dress, the breeze ruffling the bare trees is enough to make her shiver, absently wrapping her arms around herself to conserve warmth.

Paying attention as she is to the priest, Jemma doesn’t notice Fitz moving until she is startled by something being laid over her shoulders. Glancing down in confusion, she finds the suit jacket Fitz had complained so heartily to his mother about wearing just that morning.

Turning to Fitz in surprise, she finds him in just his white dress shirt and tie, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his cheeks slightly pink. It makes Jemma very concerned that he is cold as well and he’s just sacrificed his jacket for her, so she makes to take it off.

Fitz is quick to stop her, however, placing a hand over hers and shaking his head. “Keep it,” he whispers, so as not to disturb the priest. “You’re the one wearing a dress, after all.” Strangely, his cheeks seem to grow a darker pink at that, and he hastily looks away, but Jemma just chalks it up to how hard the day must be for him and wraps her hand around his arm, leaning into him and offering her presence as comfort.

It isn’t much longer before the burial is over, and the little group is trooping back to Fitz’s grandmother’s house, where they’re holding a small get-together. Just as Jemma is about to follow them inside, though, Fitz grasps her hand and tugs her away from the front door. She’s confused, but trusts him, allowing him to wordlessly lead them down the road that he seems completely familiar with.

They walk for a bit, dead leaves crunching beneath their nice fancy shoes, before Fitz veers off the path to head down a small sloping hill toward a tiny brick building with a playground out back. It’s not fancy by any means, just a set of swings and a rusted merry-go-round, but Fitz smiles slightly at the sight of it, and she can tell that this is a place he’s quite fond of.

He takes a seat on one of the swings, so Jemma joins him, perching on the one beside him and gently swaying back and forth. She doesn’t ask, but Fitz speaks up to explain anyway, “This is my old school. The one I went to when I lived here. My grandma used to pick me up when my mum was working and take me back to her house. Sometimes we’d bake stuff for her to take to her book club, sometimes she’d make a big show of trying to help me with my homework even though we both knew I didn’t need it, and sometimes she’d let me tinker with the random bits of junk collecting in her basement. She was always really supportive of me wanting to be an engineer.”

“She sounds like she was a wonderful woman,” Jemma murmurs, smiling at the picture Fitz was painting for her of his relationship with his only other living relative. Though she’s known about his grandmother for some time, had known that after Fitz’s father abandoned him and his mother before he was born, his grandmother had stepped up to help her daughter with raising her son, had known that he’d been close with her, she hasn’t heard him speak about her in this kind of detail. It’s… _nice_ , it makes her feel somehow even closer to him – even though she is relatively sure that most best friends aren’t as close as they already are.

“She was,” Fitz agrees with a small nod. “I really miss her.”

“I know,” Jemma sighs, reaching out to find his hand with hers once more. No, she hasn’t had much experience with death, but she doesn’t need to in order to understand _Fitz_ , and she can tell just by looking at him how much the pain of his grandmother’s passing is resting heavily on his shoulders.

Fitz turns to her, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the weak sunlight peering out from behind the clouds, unshed tears standing in his eyes once more. His bottom lip trembles, and he opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, there’s a shout of, “Oi, Leopold!”

Immediately, a fearful glance crosses Fitz’s features, and Jemma frowns in concern, twisting around on her swing to try and catch a glance of who had called out to him. Finally, she spots a small group of boys about their age strolling down the hill toward the playground, vicious grins on their childish faces.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, Leopold?” one of them asks with a howling laugh, as though he’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“How much did you pay her, then, Fitzy?” another asks, cackling along with his friend.

“Didn’t think you had enough money for lunch, let alone payin’ a girl to date you,” the first one adds, causing his friends to break into raucous laughter once more.

Fitz grimaces, though he doesn’t drop her hand as he mutters to her, “Ignore them, Jemma.”

She wants to do anything _but_ ignore the boys she assumes are the schoolyard bullies Fitz had mentioned once or twice before. She understands – she too had been mocked and treated differently for her intelligence that went far and beyond that of her peers, but that doesn’t mean it is even remotely okay for these boys to say such things to Fitz, especially on a day like today.

So, Jemma ignores Fitz’s request instead, standing swiftly from her seat on the swing and stalking over to the boys. As she plants her hands on her hips and scowls up at them, she hears Fitz yelp her name behind her, hears his shoes crunching on the asphalt as he hurries to her side. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I can assure you that Fitz is a thousand times the person any one of you are. You’re all just jealous that he’s a genius and he’s kind and sweet and funny and everything you boys could only ever hope to be. If I _ever_ hear you speak to him like this again, you’ll regret it.”

The boys exchange glances, their eyebrows high on their foreheads, but it’s only a moment before they break into incredulous laughter. “Look at this little English bitch thinking she’s all that,” the one that seems to be the leader says, and Jemma has to fight the urge to flinch. It’s the first time anyone has ever called her something so vile, and she has to admit that it hurts more than she’d thought it would. “Go back home to England and your mummy and daddy before we tear that pretty dress of yours.”

Given that Fitz hadn’t seemed bothered by anything they’d said about him, Jemma is left completely _shocked_ when he suddenly lunges at the boy, shoving him roughly as he snaps, “Don’t you _dare_ talk to her like that!”

Things happen quickly after that, everyone moving at once as the boys gang up on Fitz, and suddenly everyone’s throwing punches or swinging kicks, and Jemma’s shouting at them to stop but they’re not listening. In a flash of inspiration, she remembers something her brother had once told her to do if she ever found herself in a situation where she was being threatened by a man. Though she isn’t really the one in trouble, she figures that if there is ever going to be a situation where his advice is relevant, it’s this one, so she takes a deep breath and brings her knee back.

The leader is beating on Fitz mercilessly, but when Jemma’s knee swings up and connects between his legs with an audible _crack_ , he drops like a rock, howling in pain and cupping the affected area. The boy’s friends freeze, turning to gape from their leader to Jemma in disbelief, and even Fitz is staring up at her in shock. She nods in self-satisfaction, crossing her arms over her chest, and she asks the other boys daringly, “Anyone else want to try and hurt my friend?”

The boys instantly back away, holding their hands up in surrender and rapidly shaking their heads.

Smirking, Jemma nods toward the hill leading away from the playground. “Go home to your mummies and daddies. I never want to see your faces again.”

Hastily, they help up their injured friend, and make a break for it, though they aren’t moving as quickly as they’d clearly like to be, their friend limping along with him and complaining constantly. To herself, Jemma can’t help but think, _who’s the little bitch now?_

Once they’re out of sight, she turns to Fitz, gently dropping to her knees beside him on the ground. “Are you alright?” she asks softly, gently brushing her fingertips over the bruises she can see that are already starting to form on his cheeks.

For a long moment, Fitz continues to gaze up at her in shock, his mouth hanging open. Then, quite suddenly, he surges upward and then his lips are pressed against hers. His move is a bit too quick, their jaws bump against each other, and both of their mouths are tense and it’s quite uncomfortable. But, then he’s pulling away just as quickly, his face a brilliant shade of red, and Jemma feels something like a hoard of butterflies take wing in her stomach.

“Oh,” she whispers, her own cheeks beginning to burn with an embarrassed but ultimately… _pleased_ warmth.

In response, Fitz gives her a shy smile, and Jemma unexpectedly finds that she has a whole new reason to be grateful that she’d made the trip to Glasgow with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	47. 3x18 - Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "If you are still taking ideas, what about the morning after 3x18".

Upon fading into awareness, the first thing Jemma registered was the solid heat of a body pressed along her back and the weight of an arm draped across her waist. For the briefest of moments, she was disconcerted, trying to remember how she’d gotten there and who her bedmate was.

But, then her memories of the previous day came flooding back; attempting to talk Dr. Radcliffe into helping them save Daisy, her confrontation with Hive, and…

 _Fitz_.

Her eyes opened fully as she remembered how the rest of the night had gone, remembered finally giving into the love that had no doubt been building between them for _years_ now. An amused little grin tugged at her lips as she thought back over the quinjet ride back to base, and how they’d barely been able to keep their hands to themselves (but, they’d managed, not wanting to make the situation anymore awkward for poor Mack). They’d then returned to Fitz’s bunk after a short debrief with Coulson, and well…ended up where she found herself now.

With a sudden, desperate desire to see his face building inside of her, Jemma slowly rolled over beneath Fitz’s arm, careful not to wake him. Once she’d laid eyes on his beloved features, however, a slightly incredulous giggle slipped past her lips, and she hastily lifted a hand to stifle anymore that might follow.

She just couldn’t believe that she was really laying in bed with _Fitz_ of all people, her very best friend in the world. But, it was certainly a good kind of disbelief. The _best_ kind, actually.

There had been times when she’d thought that last night would never happen, that _they’d_ never happen, but they’d finally made it, and it had been better than she ever could’ve hoped it’d be.

When her giggles were finally under control, Jemma silently studied Fitz, his eyelashes fluttering in his sleep and his cheek all squashed up against the pillow, his shoulder rising and falling with each deep, even breath. He was the same shy, brilliant boy she’d befriended all those years ago, she was gazing at the same face she’d memorized when she was sixteen, but he was also so much _more_ now, and it had a surge of pure love and affection rising up inside of her, until it had filled her entire body and left her feeling strangely breathless.

Jemma had always figured that transitioning from best friends to _more_ with Fitz would take some time and patience, some careful maneuvering – but it had been so _easy_ , so effortless. Truthfully, it felt as though this was how they should’ve always been, and she couldn’t quite remember anymore why they _hadn’t_.

Unable to keep herself from touching him any longer (and with a thrill, Jemma remembered that she didn’t _have_ to stop her aching fingers from reaching out to feel his skin beneath them anymore), she lifted a hand to trace the shape of his prickly jaw, drawing lightly along the curve of his shoulder. She paused in her exploration as her fingertips came to rest over the center of his chest, where she could feel his heart beating.

Just barely, her hand shook as it occurred to her that Fitz had given her that heart some time ago, and had never expected anything in return – how did he not understand that it was the most precious thing she’d ever held? How could he not realize that he’d _always_ had her heart in return? How could he not know just how much _love_ for him she held inside her heart?

The words had been burning on Jemma’s tongue for quite awhile now, desperate to be freed, but even though they were together now, she knew that with everything going on around them, it still wasn’t the right time. After all of the moments that had been stolen from them, firsts that should have been special and wonderful and had been twisted into something else, she wanted the first time they exchanged those words to belong solely to _them_.

With all of her romantic introspection just then, Jemma was suddenly feeling a bit lonely. So, even though it was far earlier than she knew Fitz liked to be awake, she hoped that he wouldn’t be too upset with her if she woke him up – and offered something in return.

Keeping that in mind as a mischievous smirk began to play on her lips, Jemma bent her head to begin spreading slow kisses along his collarbone and up his neck to taste his pulse point, where she could feel his blood beginning to thrum with excitement beneath her lips. Just as she was tasting the stubble along the line of his jaw, she heard him suck in a sharp breath, so she went in for the kill, nipping playfully at his bottom lip.

Fitz’s eyes flew open then, and they gazed at each other for a moment before Jemma greeted him with a hushed, “Hi.”

“Hey,” was his gravelly response, and a shudder passed through her at how _attractive_ he sounded first thing in the morning, his accent thick with sleep. Unfortunately, though, he cleared his throat to then comment lowly, “That was one hell of a wakeup call.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Jemma teased with a little wink. Fitz arched an eyebrow, even as a little blush spread across his cheeks, and she felt a rush of affection at how he could still be shy after everything they’d done last night. The thought had her giggles returning, and it wasn’t long before Fitz had joined her in laughter, their bodies shaking with it.

As his mirth began to die down, he admitted quietly, “I can’t believe this is real.”

Tenderly cupping his cheek, Jemma just had to ask, because she couldn’t let it go unsaid, “Do you know that it is?”

“Yes,” he hastened to answer, nodding reassuringly. “It’s just, after thinking for so long that we’d never be here…”

“I know,” she murmured in agreement, sliding her hand around to the back of his head to brush her fingers through his shortened curls, “but I’m so _glad_ that we finally are.” There was so much happiness bursting inside of her then, but Jemma couldn’t help as a sudden flash of guilt threatened to overtake it. “Is…is it wrong for us to be this happy right now? What with Daisy’s predicament and Hive likely planning something awful…”

“Hey,” Fitz murmured, stroking a hand down the length of her bare back, carefully tracing the dips of her spine on his way back up, “it’s not wrong, Jemma. We deserve a brief moment of happiness after everything we’ve been through, don’t we? We’ve fought so hard to be here, to be together, and we _deserve_ this, okay?” When she nodded, he added, “Besides, we’ll get everything sorted; we’ll save Daisy and stop Hive and save the world, just like we always do.”

And like always, he knew exactly what to say to calm her, knew her better than she knew herself. A smile stretched across her lips as she agreed, “Yes, well, we’re going to have to – now that I have you, I’m not letting anything get in our way, ancient Inhuman god or no.”

Chuckling, Fitz reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the backs of his fingers caressing her cheek. Softly, he asked, “Do you remember the first time we woke up together?”

She did, of course – it’d been back at the Academy, when they’d fallen asleep after a late night of studying in Fitz’s dorm room. She’d woken up in his bed, her head resting on his shoulder and her legs entangled with his. For a moment, she’d been content to simply stay there, because it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. But, then she’d regained a bit more of her conscious, rational thought, and she’d realized that it was _Fitz_ , her best friend – and she’d been _cuddling_ with him.

They’d both freaked out in the same moment, and in his haste to jump out of bed and away from her, Fitz hadn’t taken the time to untangle their limbs and had ended up flopping right onto the floor. Of course, that had eased the tension right up, sending them both into fits of laughter.

After that, they’d woken up together many, many more times; after falling asleep on the couch in their shared flat during their time at Sci-Ops, after the movie nights they’d regularly have in each other’s bunks on the Bus, and more recently, after the nights when she couldn’t fight the nightmares of her time on Maveth, she’d seek out Fitz, lay her head on his shoulder, and only find slumber once she’d had his presence to make her feel safe.

“Yes,” she told Fitz simply, “I remember.”

As his thumb gently traced her bottom lip, he admitted, “Back then, I’d have never _imagined_ waking up with you like _this_.” However, a flush began to spread across his pasty skin, and he corrected himself with a grimace, “ _Fine_ , I probably could’ve imagined it, but I was a teenage boy and my best friend was _hot_! That’s not my fault!”

Jemma let out a startled laugh at his clear defensiveness, ducking closer to tuck her head between his neck and shoulder, muffling her laughter.

“Laugh all you want,” he griped lightheartedly, “but it really was a struggle for me, you know. Especially when you’d go strutting about in the summer in your little _bikinis_ – or torture devices, as they should be known.”

With an affronted gasp, she pulled back to meet his eyes with her own narrowed gaze. “Now wait just a moment, I never _strutted about_! And besides, how was I supposed to know it bothered you? I didn’t even know that you’d realized I was a girl until you told me that I was ‘more than that’!”

Fitz scoffed, leveling her with an incredulous look as he rolled onto his back, lifting one arm to rest behind his head. “I was always _very_ aware that you were a girl, thank you very much.”

Jemma followed after him, folding her hands on his chest and resting her chin on top of them. “Well, I’m sorry for causing you any troubles, then.” As Fitz gave a satisfied nod, she couldn’t help but add, “ _But_ …perhaps you shouldn’t have been staring at my breasts in the first place.”

He gaped down at her, lowering his arm for the express purpose of pointing accusingly at her as he challenged, “ _Oh_? I’d like to see you try being a sixteen-year-old boy and _not_ staring at a girl’s boobs – _especially_ when said girl is the only one you’ve ever really talked to and is so nice and pretty and has a smile like goddamn _sunshine_.”

His words, however accusatory, had Jemma beaming up at him as she said teasingly, “ _Fine_ , I suppose I can excuse your teenage self then.”

“Oh yeah? So…what about now?”

She arched an eyebrow, slyly dragging a finger over his chest as she assured him, “Oh, _current_ Fitz is more than welcome to stare at my breasts.” And with that, she sat up and swung a leg over his waist until she was straddling him, hands supporting her where they were pressed against his abdomen.

As Fitz automatically moved to curl his fingers around her hips, he gazed up at her, wide-eyed and reverent. “Brilliant,” he whispered, moments before he’d surged up to capture her lips with his.

Smirking into the kiss, Jemma couldn’t help but think that her teenage self would’ve never believed she could be like this with Fitz either, but she could see now that her feelings for him had always been there, even if she’d misunderstood what they truly meant for far too long. It was obvious now that this was always where they were going to end up, and it was where they were meant to be – _together_ , despite how long it’d taken them to fully realize and accept it.

Jemma had loved Fitz since before she’d really understood what loving another person truly meant, before she’d understood how _much_ it was possible to love another person, and when the time was right, she was going to make sure to tell him that – and then, she was going to repeat the words over and over every day for the rest of her life, just because she could.

For now, though, she was just going to have to show him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	48. Framework Speculation/AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Framework speculation fic, written post 4x15

It’s stranger than she’d thought it would be, staring down at her own grave.

Of course, when Jemma and Daisy had located their avatars in Radcliffe’s twisted Framework, they’d come to the startling conclusion that she was dead, though fortunately that had no bearing on her entering the Framework, so small miracles.

However, it left Jemma with a bad taste in her mouth and one thought continually forcing its way back to the forefront of her mind – _how was it a perfect world if she wasn’t with Fitz?_

But, she couldn’t allow herself to become preoccupied by the fact that she was living in a world where Fitz was happy without her, because after everything else she’d been through in the past twenty four hours, she’d break down and she couldn’t afford that right now – she had to save Fitz, and she had to save her team.

The hardened resolve lasted her throughout the cab drive, throughout the short walk to the entrance of the restaurant she’d pinpointed as his location before entering the virtual world.

It disappeared in an instant, however, when Fitz appeared from the double glass doors of the very same restaurant, dressed in a way _her_ Fitz wouldn’t have ever even dreamed of, a smug smirk on his lips that was a hollow mockery of the way his mouth would curve smugly every time he knew his genius intellect had surpassed everyone else’s in the room. The image alone was enough to make her queasy.

But it wasn’t even the worst part.

No, truly, the worst part was the picture perfect, too gorgeous to be real brunette woman on his arm, wearing a slinky red dress to match her pouty red lips and _it wasn’t her_. Fitz was with some woman that wasn’t _her_ in a place that was supposed to be his perfect world and it tore her already cracking heart to shreds.

After the emotional turmoil of having to honest to god murder a _thing_ with Fitz’s face, the very sight of him had tears springing to her eyes, seeing him alive and well, but she was already feeling so _weak_ after fighting so hard for what felt like ages, her hands were shaking and her knees were like Jell-O and her throat was dry, and now, seeing Fitz with _her_ …

But it wasn’t _real_.

That thought was her only saving grace, the only thing keeping her from collapsing and breaking apart at the seams. Everything around her was fake, and in the _real_ world, Fitz needed her, needed her to save him, and so help her if anything got in her way.

Besides, in the _real_ world, she and Fitz belonged together, just like Daisy had said. The sooner she pulled him out of the Framework and away from that charade of a life, the sooner she could find the real Fitz and wrap him up in her arms and kiss him breathless.

And of course, have a long talk about certain things that the monster with his face had brought up.

 _Later_.

For now, Jemma was fast losing sight of Fitz in her moment of blinding pain and heartbreak, so she squashed down her overwhelming feelings and rushed to catch up with him, barely noticing or bothering to apologize as she pushed her way through the foot traffic on the street – they weren’t real people anyway, so there was really nothing to feel sorry about. Finally, she was close enough to touch him (but as much as her skin burned to be close to his, as hard as she had to clench her fists to keep from reaching for him and holding on for dear life, she didn’t want to freak him out), and therefore close enough to overhear their conversation.

“Father said it’s nothing to worry about, of course. We’ll manufacture the supplies necessary for them all to be caught, and everything will go back to normal. Saving the day again, just like always,” Fitz was telling the woman, his voice achingly familiar and at the same time so utterly pretentious that Jemma wanted to throw up. _Father?_

“Oh Leopold, you’re such a _hero_ ,” the woman gushed, gripping his arm a bit more tightly and batting her eyelashes up at him.

 _Leopold?_ Now Jemma _knew_ what she was standing in was the furthest thing from _Fitz’s_ perfect world. If she knew Fitz as well as she’d always thought (and she was pretty sure that she did), his perfect world was the two of them, living in a cute little house somewhere away from the daily danger of SHIELD, with a fully-realized lab in their basement and a monkey living in their spare room.

_What in the world was Radcliffe thinking?_

“Well, I’m only a man,” the not-Fitz replied with a chuckle and a dashing grin that made the woman coo with awe. Jemma rolled her eyes so hard she was surprised they didn’t fall out of her head.

Thankfully for her sanity, they soon arrived a looming industrial building, and Fitz all-but dismissed the woman at the gate, practically shoving her into a waiting car with a flimsy promise to call her soon (his cold callousness made Jemma absolutely _sick_ to see – _her_ Fitz would never even imagine doing any of the things the not-Fitz was, and it was just further proof for the truth Jemma had always seen; Fitz’s father being in his life was a poison, and he hadn’t deserved Fitz in the slightest).

Unfortunately, Jemma then had to spend hours upon hours loitering on a bench across the street, given the strict security measures the building had set up, ones she would never manage to get past, even in a world where nothing was real. It wasn’t until the sun had already set beyond the horizon and the sky was black and littered with stars (stars that Jemma passed the time gazing up at, whispering the names and the constellations under her breath to calm herself in one of the most tumultuous moments of her life), that Fitz reappeared outside the building, whistling to himself as he strode down the sidewalk.

He was so caught up, he never noticed the woman slinking behind him, hiding in shadows and keeping a careful distance, a plan already forming in her mind.

-

It was Friday, which just so happened to be Leopold Fitz’s favorite day of the week. After all, all the best parties happened on Friday.

Leopold reasoned to himself that morning (or at least, what _he_ considered morning) that he’d put in a long week at work, tiring himself out fixing up father’s plans for the anti-Inhuman technology, so he didn’t have to feel an ounce bad for calling in to say he wouldn’t be coming in that day. He wanted to start his weekend early.

Which is exactly what he did, giving his driver instructions to take him to a club he frequented often, one that was almost always bursting with alcohol and beautiful women.

From the moment he stepped through the blacked out front doors, Leopold’s gaze was scanning the already raucous crowd, looking for his next mistake. Beatrice was great, but she was so _yesterday_ , and her fawning all over him was getting old. He briefly contemplated a giggling blonde, but she wasn’t exactly his type – he much preferred brunettes, with soulful brown eyes and cute little smiles, if he could swing it.

Just as he was about to give up and settle for the blonde, his eyes locked on a woman leaning up against the bar, wearing a midnight blue strapless dress clinging tightly to her top half, only to billow out in a curtain of silk around her lower half, a dangerous slit up the right side exposing the creamy pale skin of her legs. Unlike anything he’d ever come across, though, what held Leopold’s attention wasn’t in fact her body – it was her _face_.

Leopold had never imagined what his “dream girl” might look like, too caught up in as many girls as possible, but if he had, _she_ was what he would’ve imagined her as. Her brown hair fell in waves to brush the tops of her naked shoulders, her brown eyes wide and shining, her pale pink lips curved into a smile that was half come-hither, half embarrassment, her little nose crinkled slightly with it.

Leopold had also never fallen in love, nor gotten his heart broken (he was always the one finding himself doing the breaking), but he knew that if any woman was going to change that, it would be this one.

So, he put on his best ‘genius playboy’ grin and strutted across the space between them, not giving her a chance to say a word before he told her, “Let me buy you a drink. A woman as lovely as you can’t possibly continue another moment at this bar without a drink in her hand.”

For a moment, she looked perplexed, or possibly conflicted, her teeth digging into her bottom lip (and god damn it if Leopold didn’t want to be the one digging his teeth into that lip), but then her expression cleared and she gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you…” She trailed off, cocking her head, and Leopold honestly couldn’t believe that she was hinting that she didn’t know his name from the very sight of his face, but he let it slide (for now), simply on the principle of how hot she was.

“Leopold Fitz,” he finished smoothly, flagging down the bartender with ease and carelessly ordering two of the day’s specials. “And you are…?”

“Jemma,” she answered, an adorable little blush rising in her cheeks as he grinned cockily at her. “Jemma Simmons.”

It was then that Leopold picked up on her accent, and for some reason it sounded strangely familiar (but of course it would, he’d worked with and met with many a person who called England home), but he pushed that thought down and winked at her as he said, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

She pressed her lips together, almost as though she was trying to hide a smile, her eyes glinting with what Leopold figured was sheer giddiness at the attention he was paying her. “Thank you…Leopold.”

The bartender passed them their drinks then, and Leopold didn’t even bother to hide his fixation on Jemma’s mouth as she pursed her lips to take a sip from her glass, watched with laser-like focus as her tongue darted out to catch a droplet of liquid she’d missed, and all he could think about was taking her home and seeing what else she could do with that little pink tongue.

However, if she didn’t know who he was, she wasn’t bound to just follow him out of the bar and back to his penthouse, so she was going to take a bit more work than he was used to putting in. That was alright – it had been a long time since Leopold had been faced with a challenge.

“So, Jemma,” he started suavely, leaning up against the bar beside her, absently swishing his drink, “what’re you doing in a place like this in a dress like _that_?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly, nodding at the knockout dress draped over her body as though it was made for that sole purpose (up close, he could now see that the midnight blue was adorned with little specks of silver, almost like stars in a night sky – and something about that pulled at the back of his mind, as though an old forgotten memory was attempting to dredge itself up, but it didn’t quite make it and Leopold dismissed the thought). He rather thought it would look even nicer draped over the rug at the foot of his bed.

Jemma shrugged one slim shoulder, bringing his attention to the expanse of bare skin, his gaze trailing along her collarbone, over the length of her delicate throat, down to the dangerous dip of the neckline that had his heartbeat picking up speed (the oddest thing was, when he caught a glimpse of a little freckle on the top of her left breast, it had a surge of warmth and affection filling his stomach, rather than lust twisting his gut at the sight of her fantastic cleavage – though lust was _certainly_ still there). What was it about this woman that threw him for a loop like no one ever had before?

“I’ve just moved into town, and this seemed like a popular spot to get to know the local who’s who,” she explained, taking another dainty sip of her drink.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, then,” Leopold assured her with his customary smirk. “You must let me show you around; no one knows this town like me. In fact, I won’t take no for an answer.”

Jemma eyed him for a moment, peering over the rim of her glass as though she was sizing him up, then she set the now empty glass back on the bar and held out her hand to him. “Alright, if I those are my options, then I suppose I must.”

Leopold couldn’t believe his luck – even without his name to throw around, he’d bagged Jemma the dream girl so _easily_. He hid his smug smirk in his own glass as he downed his drink, depositing it on the bar with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. He took her hand in his, and –

And the strangest feeling went through his body, almost like an electric current entered through his fingertips and traveled through his bones and veins at lightning speed, sparking every nerve-ending to abrupt life.

Unable to quite hold back his sharp gasp, Leopold gaped at Jemma in awe and a bit of fear – who was this woman, and how did she affect him so completely? “Did…did you…?” He couldn’t quite finish the sentence, and Jemma was peering at him in concern, so he figured that she hadn’t felt the same electric response (and he fought down the utterly ridiculous disappointment the very idea had growing inside of him) and shook off the confusion, settling his smile back into place. “Never mind. I have a car outside, if you’d like to start that tour now.”

Jemma hid a giggle behind her hand, nodding excitedly, so Leopold led the way out of the bar, not paying any mind to the various and faceless people who called out to him or attempted to speak with him. At that moment, all of his focus was dedicated solely on Jemma.

As Jemma was sliding into the leather backseat of the car, Leopold had a whispered conversation with his driver, instructing him to take them around a few of the more popular local landmarks and sightseeing spots before looping them back around to his flat, giving him just enough time to seal the deal before pretending to be surprised where they’d ended up and offering to take her up to see his penthouse.

It, of course, worked like a charm (though he hadn’t counted on the fact that, despite just moving into town, Jemma had already known much about the town and its history, even cutting him off as he recited facts for her to finish them herself; instead of bothering him like it normally would have, it left him feeling oddly…excited), and it wasn’t long before Leopold found himself pressed tightly against Jemma, her back to the mirrored wall of the elevator in his building and his lips tracing the tantalizing length of her neck. Her hands were grabbing tightly at his shoulders, his back, his hair, and normally he’d be peeved at her wrinkling his suit or messing up his perfectly-styled hair, but with Jemma, he could throw all thought and caution to the wind in a way that he never had before. For the first time, he could actually shut his ever-active brain down and focus completely on the moment at hand.

He trailed a line of fiery kisses down her throat and across her shoulders, dipping down low to find that bloody freckle that so entranced him, and for the first time in his life Leopold Fitz found himself addicted to the very taste and feel of being with someone. For the first time in his life, Leopold thought that, perhaps, he wouldn’t get bored with a romantic partner.

When the elevator arrived at his floor, they stumbled out of it and into the hallway, and he pressed her up against his front door, digging through his back pocket for his key with one hand and groping her magnificent curves with the other. She dragged one of her legs up over his hip, nearly short-circuiting his brain, and it took a bit of awkward fumbling (so very unlike him) to get the key in the lock and the door open, but he managed it.

Once they were inside and the door had been slammed shut behind them, Jemma spun them around, all-but forcing Leopold into a nearby leather armchair. She straddled his lap, and he thought to himself that he very much liked where this was going.

Until Jemma leaned away from his wandering hands, her own pressing tightly against his shoulders to keep him from getting any closer, her expression suddenly set in determination. “I need you to listen to me and listen to me good; none of this is real. This is a world created by Dr. Holden Radcliffe, and your mind is currently trapped inside of it. _Remember_ , Fitz. Remember everything; SHIELD, our team – our _friends_ , the Academy, the Playground, the lab, the bottom of the ocean, _us_. Don’t you remember, Fitz? We’re _Fitzsimmons_ , and we’re meant to be together. No world, no matter how far away or how perfectly programmed, can change that.”

Perhaps, Leopold thought to himself dazedly as he stared up at Jemma with his jaw gone slack, Friday wasn’t actually his favorite day of the week. After all, all the craziest stuff seemed to happen on a Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	49. FS + Pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @whentheskyequakes on tumblr: "FS + pets".

Jemma had already searched every inch of her flat, _twice_ , but just in case she’d missed something, she peered behind her couch once more, calling worriedly, “Queenie? Where have you gone?”

Frowning in concern, she knelt down to check beneath her bed, but still didn’t find the little ginger cat her friend Daisy had surprised her with some months ago. Jemma’s latest relationship had just ended in a pretty nasty break-up, and Daisy had gotten her a cat in an attempt to cheer her up – the only problem had been that she’d chosen while Jemma was back home visiting her parents to pick out a cat from the local shelter. She hadn’t had a name to call her, so she’d jokingly started using “Queen Elizabeth”, but by the time Jemma had come home to the surprise, it had already stuck.

Plus, she had to admit, with her cat’s royal attitude and picky appetite, the royal moniker did seem to fit quite well.

However, in the short time that she’d been Queenie’s owner, she’d never pulled a stunt like this, seeming to simply disappear into thin air. It had Jemma increasingly troubled, and when another search of the flat came up empty, she deduced that she must have somehow slipped out the front door without her notice.

So, with that in mind, Jemma picked up the bag of Queenie’s favorite treats and stepped out into the hall, calling sweetly, “Queenie? Here, kitty kitty!” She shook the bag of treats as she went up and down the halls of her building, until she’d ended up all the way on the second floor. “Queen Elizabeth! Come here, kitty! I’ve got treats! Queenie?”

Just as she was about to give up and try the ground floor, a door to her right abruptly opened, nearly giving her a heart attack. An attractive man stuck his head out into the hall, glancing around until their gazes locked. “If you’re looking for the Queen of England, then I’m afraid I can’t help you. But, if you’re looking for a little orange cat with the startling ability to make me feel as bad about myself as human women do, then I…may just have what you’re looking for.”

A wave of pure relief washing over her, Jemma turned fully to face the man and nodded excitedly as she confirmed, “That’s my cat! You found her?”

“Well…” The man cleared his throat a tad uncomfortably, then wordlessly opened the door further and gestured into his flat. Jemma could see part of his kitchen through the doorway, and caught sight of a well-loved cat bed in the far corner, on which Queenie was snuggled up with a striped, sandy brown cat.

Gasping, she rushed right past the man and into his flat, immediately scooping Queenie up and away from the other cat. Queenie struggled a bit in her arms, obviously unhappy with this arrangement, but Jemma held fast.

“I’m sorry,” the man apologized quickly, and Jemma turned to find that his expression was truly upset. “I don’t even know how she got in here.”

“That’s alright,” Jemma sighed, adjusting her grip on Queenie. “I’m not sure how she got out, so I suppose that means we’re even.”

He shifted slightly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he explained, “I tried to pick her up, but…”

“Yes, she’s not very fond of being told what to do,” she admitted with a nod of understanding.

“I figured it wasn’t doing any harm, and she and Albert seemed to like each other well enough, so…”

Frowning, Jemma glanced from the cat, to the man, and asked a bit disbelievingly, “Your cat’s name is _Albert_?”

He planted his hands on his hips, replying defensively, “ _Yes_ , his name is Albert; I named him after the first monkey in space, of course.”

Jemma arched an eyebrow, pressing her lips together to hide the amused smirk suddenly tugging at them. “ _Right_. Well, thank you for finding her, and for letting me know that she was here.” She took a step toward the door, but paused when he called for her to wait.

“Um, I just…I was…I… _Fitz_ ,” he stumbled out, his cheeks slowly pinking.

Unsure what to make of the jumbled sentence, she hesitantly asked, “What?”

“My name,” he explained, “it’s Fitz. I figured I should…y’know, introduce myself since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

“Oh. Well, I’m Jemma Simmons. Thanks again for finding Queenie for me, Fitz.”

Fitz chuckled, shrugging off her gratitude. “Yeah, well, it was really more of a ‘she found me’ situation, to be honest.”

A little smile quirked Jemma’s mouth up at the corners, and she took another step toward the door, Queenie still restless in her arms with her tail twitching impatiently. “I’m grateful regardless.” As she stepped out into the hallway, she called back to him, “Perhaps we’ll see each other around, Fitz.”

Following after her to stand in the doorway, Fitz agreed with a hopeful little grin, “Yeah, maybe we will.”

Little did either of them know, though, it would only be a very short time before their paths crossed yet again; it wasn’t even a week later that Jemma found herself knocking on Fitz’s door rather quickly. As soon as it had opened to reveal Fitz himself, she demanded to know, “Is Queenie here?”

Fitz grimaced and nodded, stepping back to allow her entrance into his flat. “Yeah, I just found her. I was going to let you know, but I wasn’t sure how to get a hold of you.” He led her through the kitchen, further into the flat than she’d been the last time. They ended up in his living room, where Albert and Queenie were fast asleep on the cushions of his couch.

“I don’t know how she keeps doing this,” Jemma admitted, a tad frustrated as she moved to pick up her cat so that they could return to her flat.

“ _Wait_ ,” Fitz said suddenly, causing her to pause mid-motion. “It’s just…they look really peaceful, yeah? Why don’t we just let them finish their nap, then you can take her home.”

Taken aback at the suggestion, Jemma turned to Fitz and asked, “Oh? And what do you suppose I should do in the meantime, then?”

He flushed, shrugging widely as his gaze darted about the room, looking anywhere but at her. “Oh, well…you could join me for a cup of tea, if you want. I was just about to put on a pot, after all.”

She mulled it over for a moment, glancing over to Queenie and Albert, who _did_ look quite peaceful, before turning back to Fitz’s hopefully raised eyebrows. “A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.” They returned to the kitchen, and Jemma took a seat at the table as Fitz hurried about the room, preparing their tea. “So,” she started after a short stretch of silence, “how long have you had Albert?”

“Um…about six months now, I think,” he answered. “It just seemed logical that getting a cat would be much easier than finding a girlfriend to spend all of my free time with.” He shot her a teasing, self-deprecating smirk over his shoulder. “How long have you had Queenie?”

“My friend surprised me with her a few months ago,” Jemma explained. “That’s where the whole ‘Queen Elizabeth’ thing comes from; Daisy started it as a joke, but it ended up sticking.”

“Well, it’s probably for the best, since it certainly suits her.” Turning briefly from the pot of tea, Fitz asked curiously, “So why did she surprise you with a cat? Was it your birthday, or for some other reason? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Jemma had to stop herself from making a bit of a face at the question; it wasn’t exactly a subject she was interested in discussing with anyone, let alone someone that she barely knew. Still, she replied carefully, “No, my birthday’s in September. She just felt that I needed some cheering up after a break-up.”

Fitz was quiet a moment, before saying simply, “ _Ah_ , I see.” He turned away from the counter then, carrying two cups of tea over to the table, where Jemma was waiting. They prepared their tea in silence, and once they’d finished and settled in, he cleared his throat and asked, “So…other than owning a cat named Queen Elizabeth with a penchant for breaking and entering, what have you got going on in your life, Jemma Simmons?”

Chuckling, Jemma set down her cup of tea and confessed, “Not much.”

For the next hour or so, they talked, getting to know each other better, and Jemma had to admit that Fitz only seemed to grow more and more interesting by the moment; truthfully, she could certainly see herself spending a lot more time with him in the future.

But, when she and Queenie left Fitz’s flat, it was without extracting a promise to see him again soon. She didn’t want to be too forward, after all, and scare him away, so she just had to hope that things would progress naturally; perhaps they’d run into each other in the hall sometime, or cross paths while retrieving their mail.

Queenie had _other_ plans, apparently, as she began to make a habit out of disappearing from Jemma’s flat, only to appear not long after in Fitz’s, and it wouldn’t be long before she was receiving a call that her cat had been found strutting about Fitz’s flat as though she owned the place. As such, they continued to use their cats as an excuse to see each other, always lengthening Jemma’s stay by reasoning that if Queenie had gone to all that trouble to see Albert, then who were they to stand in the way of love?

Things were going… _well_ – really well, in fact – and it was making Jemma nervous. After all, this was usually the time when things started to fall apart, always proving too good to be true. And, she was proven correct some weeks later, arriving at Fitz’s door and knocking a bit harshly.

It wasn’t long before it swung open to reveal Fitz’s face, twisting into a confused expression as his gaze landed on her. “Jemma? Queenie isn’t…I don’t think she’s here.” He shot a glance over his shoulder into his flat, shaking his head and frowning as he turned back to her, then offered, “I can help you look for her though, if you’d like.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Jemma told Fitz flatly, “I know exactly where my cat is, thank you – we just got back from the vet.”

His frown deepened as he asked in concern, “Is everything okay?” She glowered wordlessly at him for a moment, until he asked uncertainly, “…what?”

Unable to keep in her frustration any longer, Jemma cried out, “You got my cat pregnant!”

Blanching, he peered out into the empty hallway behind her, his eyes wide and filled with anxiety as he hissed, “Can you not _yell_ that, please? I don’t exactly want people thinking I’m going around getting cats _pregnant_.” He released a heavy sigh, then went on, “And are you even sure it’s Albert’s?”

Gasping in affront, she took a step closer and lowered her voice to demand fiercely, “Are you calling my cat _promiscuous_?”

“What? No!” he said hurriedly, still looking a bit confused even as he shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I just…” He blinked a couple of times suddenly, his brow furrowing. “Wait…I thought you said that Queenie had been spayed?”

“I thought so!” Jemma cried, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Daisy promised me that’s what the shelter had told her!” Groaning in defeat, she dropped her head into her hands and shook it. “What am I going to _do_?”

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she glanced up to find Fitz smiling at her warmly. “We’ll figure it all out,” he promised, briefly squeezing her shoulder. “Come in, sit down, and we’ll talk over some tea, okay?”

Releasing a relieved breath, she nodded, allowing him to lead her into his flat and to sit down at his kitchen table. After a long talk with Fitz, with her hands wrapped around a nice warm cup of soothing tea, Jemma felt much better about the whole situation – and of course, she was no longer upset with Fitz, who had promised to help in any way that he could, and to take half the responsibility of the situation (however, she couldn’t help but give Albert a bit of a _look_ when he wandered into the kitchen for an afternoon snack).

“I should probably head back to mine,” she said once they’d finished their cooling tea, even as she lingered in his kitchen, only taking little half-steps toward the front door. “Queenie’s no doubt upset at being left alone for so long.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Fitz agreed, hovering a few feet away from her as he walked her the short distance to the door.

Turning the knob and opening the door, Jemma paused in the doorway, turning back to face him as she told him, “I’m sorry for…how I acted earlier, Fitz. I was just so upset and I’d been blindsided by it and…”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize,” he hastened to assure her, “you were completely in the right. After all, you’ve got the female cat, so ‘course you’re gonna assume all the responsibility is falling on your shoulders.”

“But it’s not,” she reminded him with a grateful little grin. “Because I’ve got you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do,” Fitz agreed, his voice growing soft as he gazed at her. “Always.”

It was those words, paired with the warmth and affection in his tone, that had Jemma sucking in a sharp breath and throwing whatever caution and reasons she’d had against this to the wind, surging forward to capture Fitz’s lips with her own and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Fitz stumbled slightly at the sudden force of her body crashing against his, one of his hands flailing about wildly as he caught himself on the nearby counter. His other hand, however, slid around her lower back, fisting in the material of her shirt as he gave a pleasantly surprised groan against her mouth. Once he seemed to have regained his balance, he spun them around in order to press her up against the counter, kissing her with a passion that took her by complete surprise.

However, when she eventually gave him a gentle push away, Fitz immediately reined in the passion and stepped back, his eyes wide with concern. “Jemma?”

Smirking, Jemma found Fitz’s hand with hers, lacing their fingers together as she nodded her head in the direction of his bedroom. When his eyes rounded in shock, she informed him in a whisper, “Albert’s watching us.”

Startled, Fitz threw a glance over his shoulder, toward where Albert was curled up in his bed, watching them with wide, unblinking eyes. Turning back to her, he asked lowly, “But…are you…we don’t…”

Giving a little tug on his hand, she began to move backwards, taking little steps toward his bedroom. “I’m sure, Fitz, I promise.” With a little laugh and a roll of her eyes, she added, “Besides, I think there’s a problem if my cat has a better love life than me.”

Chuckling, he shot another look at Albert, and admitted, “Okay, yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

But, said problem was no longer an issue as far as Jemma was concerned, and when she woke up the next morning and entered Fitz’s kitchen to start the tea, she wasn’t even upset (or really surprised, to be honest) to find Queenie with Albert in front of his bowl of cat food.

It was like they’d always said; who were they to get in the way of love?

-

“ _No_.”

“But _Jemma_!” Fitz affected his best pout, holding up one of Queenie and Albert’s tiny, squirming kittens up. “They’re just so _cute_.”

“No, Fitz! We already agreed that there was no possible way for us to keep them,” Jemma reminded him tiredly, folding her arms over her chest. “Kittens need constant care, and neither of us has all day to dedicate that kind of time – and I, for one, do not want to be carting a box of kittens up and down between our floors several times a day.”

Fitz lowered the kitten, allowing it to slip free from his fingers and hurry off to join its siblings as a contemplative look crossed his face. “Well…”

“What?” she asked, arching a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“I mean…it’s not really fair for us to split up Queenie and Albert, is it? Especially not with the kittens, so…” He pointedly raised his eyebrows, but when Jemma shook her head in confusion, he swallowed visibly and colored a bit as he went on, “So…maybe we should solve all of those problems by… _not_ splitting them up.”

Frowning deeply, Jemma looked over to Queenie, who was lying down in Fitz’s living room, keeping a careful eye on her kittens as they explored around her. “You…you want her to stay here, with you?” She had to admit that it made sense, but she just couldn’t imagine parting with her cat, even for a short time.

“Queenie and…and you.” When she whirled around to stare at him with wide eyes, he hurried to explain, “You’re already here all the time anyway, and Queenie clearly wants to be here, and…and if it’s too fast then we can forget I said anything and just…figure something else out, but –”

“Yes,” Jemma interrupted, pressing her lips together in an attempt to hold back the brilliant grin she could already feel forming.

Fitz’s eyebrows rose in pleasant, slightly disbelieving surprise. “Yes?” he repeated unsurely.

She nodded excitedly, dropping to her knees on the floor beside him and throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “Yes, yes _of course_. It really does make the most sense, doesn’t it? I can’t remember the last time I spent more than a few minutes in my flat anyway; there’s no use paying rent for something I don’t even _use_ anymore.”

He looped his arms around her waist, tugging her down onto his lap and pulling her closer. “We’ll start moving your stuff here tomorrow, then.” Jemma pulled back a bit to meet his gaze, sharing a ridiculously wide smile with him. Just as she was about to lean in to kiss him, however, she felt something brush up against her leg.

Glancing down, she let out a laugh when she noticed Albert sitting beside them, looking as though he was waiting patiently for something. “And what is it you want, Albert?” she asked, reaching out to scratch the top of his furry head.

“Ah, he probably wants me to _thank_ him, the bloody beast,” Fitz admitted with a roll of his eyes. “None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t been such a Romeo, after all.”

Giving a surprised giggle, Jemma told him in a hushed voice, “I can’t believe we were set up by _cats_.”

“Oh, with the way my life’s gone, it’s no real surprise to me.” He patted Albert’s head then, giving him a couple of pets. “Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

Jemma watched as Albert trotted back over to Queenie and the kittens, and she almost could’ve sworn that Queenie looked… _smug_ just then. If she didn’t know better…she might’ve said that this had been her plan all along, to get Jemma to fall in love with Fitz so that she and Albert could be together – fortunately, Jemma had more common sense than to believe that cats had _plots_.

 _Still_ …

“ _Thank you_ ,” she mouthed to Queenie, gratefully tightening her arms around Fitz’s neck to hug him just a little closer. With Albert sitting protectively at her side, Queenie looked even more self-satisfied then, if such a thing was even possible.

Jemma never thought that she’d owe a _cat_ for helping her to find love, but…it’d gotten her Fitz, so she supposed that she could be okay with it.

After all, who was she to stand in the way of love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	50. Romance to Tragedy - Season 4 AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year as a part of 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks; Week Forty-One, "A romance that ends in tragedy". Set sometime during Season 4A, and continued in next chapter.

Nothing in life was perfect. Jemma Simmons was a realist, and as such, she had known that for much of her life. However, when she awoke each and every morning wrapped up in the arms of her best friend and absolute love of her life, sunlight slanting through the windows of their shared apartment to fall across his beloved face, she came as close as she ever got to believing that perfection _did_ exist.

Biting her lip against a giddy smile, Jemma snuggled further into the warmth of Fitz’s embrace, even though she knew that she should get up and start getting ready. She knew that Director Mace was expecting her earlier than usual that morning to go over some new project, and that if she spent any more time in bed she’d wind up being late with the commute from the apartment to the Playground, but she wanted to spend just another few moments gazing at Fitz.

His face had become her favorite shortly into their friendship, and without realizing it, she’d found herself memorizing each and every line of it, all of his smiles, the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the exact tint of the blush that reddened his cheeks when he’d embarrassed himself, the shape of his lips, the curve of his chin, the slope of his nose – if she hadn’t been so startlingly naïve for a genius sixteen-year-old, she’d have recognized the signs that she was deeply in love with him so much sooner.

But, even though it had taken them an extra twelve years to get there, they were together and in love and happier than they’d ever been, and Jemma couldn’t argue with those results.

“Quit starin’ at me,” Fitz suddenly grumbled, though his lips were twitching at the corners.

“Sorry, can’t,” Jemma teased, not bothering to hold back on the brilliant grin that lit up her face as she reached out to pinch his cheek playfully. “You’re far too cute for that.”

Fitz grimaced, cracking his eyes open only to narrow them at her. “M’not _cute_.”

“Awww yes you _are_ ,” she cooed, piling on the sweetness and holding back her giggles as she patted his cheek. “You’re the _cutest_.”

“Jem _ma_ ,” he whined, shifting the hand resting over her back so that he could wrap his arm more securely around her waist. Then, in a swift movement she hadn’t thought him awake enough to complete, he’d rolled them over so that she was trapped between him and the mattress, the comforter and blankets tangled around their legs. “Take it back.”

“No,” Jemma replied stubbornly through her beaming grin. “I mean, just look at you, with your little _face_.” She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs absently stroking along his cheeks, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Sometimes, she was hit abruptly with the reminder that she was here with _Fitz;_ they were alive and as whole and unharmed as they possibly could be, and he was everything she’d ever needed. He may have looked a bit different from that pale, scrawny boy she’d befriended back at the Academy, but when she looked at him now, all she saw was the years she’d spent so happily by his side.

There was nowhere else in the universe she’d rather be than right there, lying beneath him with the early morning sunshine framing his face and the heat from his body warming her to her core.

“Jem?” Fitz prompted quietly, a frown forming on his lips in response to what she was sure was a strange look on her face.

Jemma opened her mouth to try and explain what she was feeling to him, but she almost instantly decided that the depth of feeling inside of her couldn’t possibly be put into words – they would only cheapen it. So, she simply shook her head, a soft smile ticking up the corners of her mouth as she murmured, “I love you.”

In immediate response, Fitz grinned, shifting his weight to one arm to free his other hand, his fingers brushing back the hair that had spilled across her cheek in their unexpected shift in position. “I love you, Jemma,” he breathed, and _god_ if the world didn’t seem perfect at that moment.

-

In a mere few hours, things had changed so drastically that it was almost unbelievable.

Not long after arriving at the Playground that morning, Jemma and Fitz had been pulled onto a mission investigating a series of suspicion explosions, with the Watchdogs appearing to be the culprits. Mace was desperate to get a leg up on the gang, desperate to find out more about where their funding and backing was coming from, and was sure that the more investigations into Watchdog activity they had, the more they were likely to find.

So, that was how they found themselves in a shootout with a small throng of Watchdogs in an abandoned warehouse, using giant metal barrels as cover. They were outnumbered, not to mention using ICERs against what appeared to be assault rifles, and the tide was very obviously not turning in their favor any time soon.

“A plan at this point would be appreciated!” Jemma called around the side of her metal barrel, toward where she knew Coulson was crouching behind his own, determinedly shooting at as many of the Watchdogs as he possibly could.

“Stopping them seems like a pretty good one!” he replied dryly, and Jemma let out a huff, rolling her eyes. Technically, she outranked Coulson and could force a retreat, but battle tactics weren’t exactly her strong suit – despite her higher ranking in the organization, she still tended to defer to Coulson while they were out in the field.

Suddenly, someone popped around the side of her hiding spot, and Jemma sucked in a sharp breath, raising her ICER quickly – but she dropped it just as hastily when she realized that it was Fitz. She let out a long breath of relief at seeing that he was alright and still in one piece, even though she’d already known that he was fine. Seeing was much more reassuring, after all.

“I think I’ve got an idea,” Fitz explained, breathing with a bit of difficulty as he chanced a glance around the side of the barrel. “That machine they’ve been using for the explosions, it’s right there behind them. If I could rig it to backfire, it’ll let off a much smaller explosion, knocking them all unconscious – if all goes to plan, that is.”

Frowning, Jemma peeked around the side of the barrel, eyeing the large group of nasty-looking men protecting the device Fitz was speaking of. “Fitz, that’s too dangerous. They’ll see you for sure.”

“I don’t see us gaining the upper hand any other way,” Fitz insisted, his mouth set in a determined line. “’Sides, I can do it. I just need some cover, and it’ll be a piece of cake.”

Jemma knew with absolute certainty that for all his bravado, Fitz understood that it most definitely was _not_ going to be a piece of cake. They both knew how dangerous it would be, but he was also right that there weren’t many other options. And, she trusted him, believed in him, so she took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. “Alright. Alright, but…” Reaching out with her free hand, the hand not gripping her ICER tightly, she found his and squeezed it. “Be careful. _Please_ be careful.”

“Always.” He began to move away, hesitated, then swooped back in to press his lips to hers. The kiss may have lasted only for the space of a breath, but in her desperation to keep him close to her, where he was safe, she closed her eyes tightly and lived an entire lifetime in the moment their lips were pressed together.

Then, however, it was over and he was breaking away. Her eyes flew open just in time to see his reassuring smile, and then he had ducked around the side of her hiding spot, likely to find Coulson and discuss the plan with him.

Jemma waited for a long series of moments with baited breath, her heart in her throat and her palms sweating, waiting to hear something to indicate if Fitz’s plan had worked – or if it _hadn’t_.

Finally, curiosity got the better of her, and she peered around the barrel, her gaze searching for Fitz’s familiar face. It only took a moment to find him, kneeling next to the device and his hands working at double-speed as he continually glanced toward the Watchdogs to make sure he hadn’t been spotted. Jemma felt as though she couldn’t breathe, her breath getting stuck as she watched him work.

Even from across the warehouse, she could see a relieved and proud smile cross his lips as he leaned back from the device, swiping a hand over his surely sweaty forehead. Jemma could breathe a _bit_ easier, but she wouldn’t be alright until _he_ was, until he was far from the Watchdogs and the danger they and their machine presented.

Fitz began to carefully crawl away from the machine, continuing to keep an eye on their opponents, but then he paused, a frown appearing on his face. In her head, Jemma shouted at him to get away, to get the _hell_ away from danger and just come back to her where she could protect him.

However, he started creeping back toward the device, his eyes widening, and even over the deafening sound of guns discharging and bullets pinging against metal and yelling, she heard a resounding _click_. It was the only warning before her world came to an end.

The entire warehouse was rocked with the thunderous explosion of the device, and Jemma was thrown onto her back, the _thud_ of her hitting the concrete knocking the wind from her lungs. But, even before she’d fully caught her breath, she was scrambling to her feet, dropping her ICER and racing out from behind her hiding spot, heedless of any Watchdogs that could somehow still be standing. What she found caused a shriek to leave her lips, eerily similar to one she had let out three years prior at the bottom of the ocean. “ _NOOOOO_!”

All that remained was a fiery hole torn in the side of the building, twisted metal and scorched concrete, fire billowing out into the mid-day sunshine, and not a single living soul in sight.

As Jemma’s knees refused to hold her up any longer, she collapsed to the hard ground, not even feeling it as her knees cracked against it and the roughness of it scraped her palms. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the destruction, from what had stolen _everything_ from her, even as the image blurred with the tears filling her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.

The only complete thought Jemma’s brain could seem to form just then was the stark realization that nothing in her life could ever come close to being perfect again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	51. Tragedy to Romance - Season 4 AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year as a part of 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks; Week Forty-Two, "A tragedy that ends in romance". Set sometime during Season 4A, and is continued from the previous chapter.

Jemma Simmons had had far more experiences with death than someone her age reasonably should. Then again, most people her age didn’t work for a potentially dangerous government agency. As such, she’d seen too many people die; colleagues, friends, people she hardly knew but grieved for all the same.

However, all of her previous experiences with death couldn’t have prepared her for _this_.

First had come the numbness, which Jemma logically knew was from the shock. That was normal, of course, and she’d been through it before. It passed eventually. But, it was only to let in _everything_. All the horror, the pain, the aching grief, the devastating sorrow. She cried and cried and cried until she could no longer physically produce tears her body was so dehydrated.

After that, though, was the soul-crushing _emptiness_.

It was at that point that Jemma was forced to accept it – her best friend, her favorite person, her favorite _word_ , her favorite everything, the love of her life was _gone_. The boy she’d befriended when they were both sixteen and unbelievably socially awkward and clung to each other as they attempted to navigate the Academy’s more bewildering social activities – _gone_. The man she’d watched as he’d grown into, the man who had matured and changed and pushed her away, only to pull her back from the other side of the universe – _gone_. The single most lovely, most incredible, most warm and kind and friendly and genuinely loyal person she had ever had the pleasure of knowing – just _gone_.

What was left for her now? What was she meant to do with her life now that the one person who had made it most worth living had been taken from it? Yes, logically Jemma knew that she could and had lived her life without Fitz before. But, each time she had, she’d been downright miserable, and it was only due to her being left without any other option. Plus, she’d always had the reminder that even if he wasn’t with her, Fitz was alive and well somewhere else to keep her going. Now, she didn’t even have _that_.

For the first few days after the mission gone wrong, Jemma stayed at the Playground. Or rather, she was placed under the care of the medical staff as she was treated for shock and though they didn’t tell her, she knew they were watching her for _signs_ – signs that she wasn’t handling Fitz’s death correctly, that she wasn’t coping well.

Jemma didn’t much care what they thought, and was just fine with curling up on a cot and staring at the wall blankly. She heard the whispers, caught sight of the stares out of the corner of her eye. They were all disturbingly intrigued to see their strict, no-nonsense, at times very _vocal_ boss turned into a shell of herself, shutting out the rest of the world.

On her second day in the med bay, Mace stopped by to offer his condolences. Jemma couldn’t even muster herself up to react, to reply in any shape or form – that was, until Mace told her solemnly, “I’ll miss Agent Fitz as well. He was a valued member of our team, and it won’t be the same without him.”

She had no clue where it came from, but abruptly rage built up inside of her, bubbling up until it poured out of her in the form of shouting, “You barely _knew_ him! Don’t talk about him like you did! Fitz was more than just a cog in your bloody _machine_! He was a person, he was _everything_!”

As she was yelling at a shocked Mace, she’d bolted upright and started swinging, barely conscious of actions. However, she realized abruptly that something was holding her back, and she automatically struggled against it, until she became aware of Coulson repeating over and over soothingly, “Simmons, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s okay, Jemma. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Breathing out shakily, Jemma relaxed a bit in Coulson’s tense hold around her shoulders and stomach, and she heard him breathe a quiet sigh of relief. “He was everything,” she mumbled once more, closing her eyes as they burned with unshed tears, and by that time she’d already lost track of how many times she’d cried.

“I know,” Coulson replied lowly, his voice gruff with his own barely contained grief, and unlike Mace, Jemma believed him.

-

The first night after she’d been released from the med bay, Jemma returned to their off-base apartment, as was expected of her. She was expected to pick her life back up and continue on, as though her life hadn’t ended at the same time that Fitz’s had.

However, the second she opened the door and stepped foot into the apartment, she was hit with memories, with _Fitz_. They hadn’t lived there all that long in the grand scheme of things, but they’d had equal hand in the decorating, they’d spent every single night and morning there, they’d spent their rare days off (and even rarer days off _together_ ) there. The sight of the couch made her think of evenings spent curled up together, catching up on Dr. Who or sipping tea as they discussed their respective days. A glance at the kitchen brought to mind memories of those few mornings they’d had the time to make breakfast, when Fitz stood at the stove in just his boxers and t-shirt as he flipped pancakes and she would mold herself to his back, soaking up his body heat and nuzzling kisses against his shoulders and neck and back.

She didn’t even get far enough into the apartment to be seized with memories the bedroom would draw out in her. Instead, she turned tail and ran – quite literally. With tears blurring her vision, she ran the short distance back to the Playground, barely able to hear the sound of her feet slapping the pavement over the pounding of her heart.

She burst into the Playground’s commissary, shaky from the adrenaline and the overwhelming emotions, and didn’t even bother to check if she was alone in the late hour before she collapsed against the wall and sobbed into her hands. She slid down the wall, curling up into a tiny ball and wondered wildly if every single day of the rest of her life would be this _painful_.

Then, a hand gently curled over one of her knees, and Jemma jerked in surprise, quickly lowering her hands and wiping uselessly at her soaked cheeks. May was sitting up against the wall beside her, and was clearly offering her silent support. Though May said nothing, Jemma suddenly found herself spilling _everything_ , babbling out every thought and fear and feeling that passed through her mind.

“I know I can live without him, but I also know that I don’t _want_ to,” she sobbed out, dropping her head back against the wall. “He’s inside me, in my heart and soul and brain and bones and blood in a way no one person should be. He’s…he’s what makes everything brighter, funnier, more beautiful. The way he looked at the world, the way he just _accepted_ people for who they were, the way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he… _god_ , the way he _looked_ at me… I’d never believed love could be made physical, made visible and _real_ until I noticed how he looked at me. I’d always known that he looked at the world and saw all the ways that he could improve it, make it better, but when he looked at me…I truly believed that he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d change about me, that he thought I was…was perfect exactly as I was.”

It was at that point that Jemma was crying too hard to go on, and she lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs. Just barely, she noticed May lifting a hand as well, and glimpsed her subtly wiping away a tear.

Despite the uncomfortable position, despite the fact that they were sitting on a hard floor in the commissary, May sat there with her for hours. At some point, Jemma began to drift off, her head falling to rest against May’s shoulder. Just before she dropped off completely, though, she thought she heard May’s quiet, harsh voice whisper, “They’ll pay for this. I’ll find them, and make them pay for this.”

If Jemma had been awake enough to find her voice, she would have reminded May that violence only led to more violence. That being said, she also knew that that was May’s way of showing she cared, that she’d loved Fitz just as much as the rest of them, and it brought out just a tiny bit of warmth in her heart.

-

They held a funeral for Fitz, and attending it was one of the hardest things Jemma had ever had to do.

During her time as a field agent in SHIELD, she’d witnessed many deaths, yes, but she’d never gone to a single one of their funerals. Every agent they lost after the fall of SHIELD was remembered and honored, but their status in the shadows meant that they weren’t able to be given proper burials. Even as they’d lost Trip, and Andrew, and Lincoln, each had gone without a funeral, simply ending up with a headstone with their name carved into it.

But, since SHIELD had come out of the shadows, Fitz was allowed that simple liberty, and Jemma was glad because he deserved it, but also felt that it was only going to make things all the more difficult – she was attending her best friend in the world’s _funeral_.

As they lowered the empty casket into a hole in the ground, Jemma hung back, not wanting to be made into any more of a spectacle than she already was at the Playground. Though she almost always thought that she couldn’t possibly have anymore tears, she was constantly proven wrong, and they fell once more as dirt began to rain down on the casket, (metaphorically) burying Fitz and everything about him.

Suddenly having to look away from the heart-wrenching sight, Jemma turned her gaze out toward the graveyard, and caught sight of a flash of movement behind a large tree a little ways away. It had almost seemed like…

Frowning and sniffing back her tears, Jemma slipped away from the small group, carefully picking her way through the headstones until she’d reached the tree. She hesitated a few feet away, then prompted softly, “Daisy?”

There was a muffled sniffle, then a hand shot out, pulling her behind the tree trunk and into a tight but familiar embrace. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Daisy mumbled over and over against her shoulder, rocking them back and forth as she cried.

Jemma shook her head wordlessly, returning the hug just as tightly and pressing her face against Daisy’s shoulder. She had no idea how Daisy had found out, if Elena was still leaking information to her and that was how she knew where and when to show up, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that SHIELD secrets had likely been leaked, it didn’t matter that Daisy was a wanted vigilante, it didn’t matter that she was still upset with Daisy for leaving and turning her back on them.

All that mattered in that moment was the fact that they’d both loved Fitz fiercely, and they were sharing their grief, using each other for support as they wept for him.

-

Mace was kind enough to give her a period of grief (which likely had something do with her little breakdown in the med bay), but he claimed that the Science Division could only go on for so long without her, and it went without saying that he didn’t want them getting too behind because they’d lost both their senior agents.

Her first day back lasted about as long as her attempt to enter their apartment (which she still hadn’t succeeded in, and she was ashamed to admit that she’d been crashing in one of the empty rooms in the med bay ever since – May was covering for her, though the agreement was entirely wordless). She took a single step into the lab – _their_ lab, the lab they’d designed and improved and worked in and run for the past two years. The lab where they’d saved lives together, the lab where they’d done ground-breaking work, and most importantly, the lab where they’d shared their first two kisses. All she had to do was glance in the direction of where it had happened, and she could still remember the way Fitz’s arms had wrapped tight around her, the way his lips had pressed heatedly against hers and taken her completely by surprise, the way it had felt to know that perfect completion of his body against hers, his lips against hers, for the very first time. She’d never wanted it to end, had wanted to spend every moment of every day for the rest of their lives just like that.

So she fled, just like before, because Jemma didn’t do well with facing emotions. She did much better with running from them, hiding them, burying them down deep and pretending they didn’t exist.

Somehow, Jemma ended up in the locker room, and had to fight back memories of the words “maybe there is” and his hand in hers and the conflicting feelings of _hope_ and sheer _terror_. She was so focused on it, that it took her a long moment to realize that she was intruding, that someone had been putting away mission gear in one of the opened lockers.

“Oh,” she murmured, her eyes growing wide as she registered the sight of Mack, half-turned from his locker and frowning at her in concern. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just –” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the door, preparing herself to leave, but paused when Mack held up a hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her with a small smile that was obviously meant to be more easygoing than he actually felt, but it fell a bit flat. “Tough day?”

“A bit,” Jemma replied quietly, heaving a sigh before slinking further into the room to perch on one of the benches.

Mack closed his locker, then sat down beside her, resting his elbows on his knees and loosely lacing his fingers together as he bowed his head. They were silent for a moment, then he said lowly, “I never apologized for how I treated you, when we first met. I barely knew you, and I’m sorry for acting like I did.”

“I’m sure it was no less than I deserved.” She let out a shuddering sigh as she was brought back to the weeks after she’d returned from HYDRA, when Fitz had been hurt by her disappearance and was giving her the cold shoulder for it. It was one of the worst times of her life, but she knew with certainty that she would give _everything_ to be back there now, back when Fitz was _alive_ , even if they’d been at odds at the time.

“You didn’t,” Mack argued firmly, shaking his head. “And I’m sure Fitz would’ve said the same thing, even back then, even when you guys were out of sorts. See, I noticed something real quick, after you got back. Even when he was trying to convince us all that he was mad at you, that he was over you and your friendship and whatever else it could’ve been, it was all a load of crap. He would’ve done anything for you, he still wanted to be around you, see you, talk to you, talk _about_  you – ‘cause trust me, it’s all he seemed able to do. He always loved you, you know? From what I saw, you never stopped being the most important person to him. Because that’s the kind of person he was – he never really gave up on people, he was loyal to a _fault_. ‘Least he was ‘til they tried to hurt you.”

Jemma swallowed a bit roughly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and clenching her hands into fists. She didn’t want to cry again, had already cried enough to last a few lifetimes, but the emptiness Fitz’s loss left in her chest ached and burned and tore at her until tears sprung up in her sore eyes. She wanted to thank Mack, wanted to ask him more about one of the few periods of time since she’d met Fitz that she hadn’t been in his life, wanted to tell him how grateful she was that Fitz had had him when he’d needed someone, but none of it could get past the sobs building in her throat.

Mack seemed to understand, however, reaching out to wrap an arm around her and tugging her up against his chest. Gratefully, Jemma buried her face in his shirt and let it all out once more, and listened as Mack told her in a low, soothing tone sometimes plagued with tears of his own all the stories he had to tell about Fitz.

-

Eventually, life began to force Jemma to move on with it, and when SHIELD came to find that someone had stolen Radcliffe’s initial schematics for AIDA and was now producing LMDs, she was brought back into the fold whether she liked it or not.

She ended up at Radcliffe’s for the first time since they’d lost Fitz, and it was strange being there without Fitz, but she told herself that now was not the time to dwell on it and simply got down to business. A field team had managed to take out one of the incredibly formidable LMDs, and SHIELD had recovered it, bringing it back to Radcliffe’s to be studied.

Radcliffe kept glancing at her with a frown, and there was an uncomfortable air to him, as though he was dying to say something but couldn’t quite find the right opening to. Jemma tried to ignore it; she’d been comforted by everyone else close to her, and she was tired of being vulnerable, tired of leaning on everyone else when she should have been dealing with it on her own, tired of taking everyone else for granted, and tired of being seen only as some sort of grieving widow. While Fitz’s death had redefined her, had redefined who she was and what she wanted out of life, she refused to allow anyone else to think that it was all her life consisted of now, even if privately she was almost sure that it _was_.

Finally, after they’d gotten the LMD open and begun inspecting its inner workings, Radcliffe cleared his throat awkwardly, not lifting his gaze from where they were studying the LMD as he said, “Look, I never…never got to say how…how terribly awful what happened to Fitz was. I miss him myself, got to know him quite well, and –” Abruptly, he cut himself off, then let out a sharp gasp as he lifted something from inside the LMD.

“What?” Jemma asked in confusion, leaning in and squinting as she tried to get a better look at what he’d found.

Radcliffe silently stared at the piece of equipment for such a long moment, Jemma’s frustration began to mount and she nearly demanded that he explain himself right this instant. However, before she could, he started slowly, “If all they managed to steal were my schematics, how did they end up with _this_?” At that, he handed over the tiny piece of tech.

Jemma studied it carefully, and after a moment realized that it was an additional chip for coding, one that she almost instantly recognized the style and workmanship of. Shocked, she quickly raised her wide-eyed gaze to meet Radcliffe’s, not daring to speak a word.

“AIDA is the only one with that kind of technology,” Radcliffe went on, his eyebrows arching upwards, “And I can assure you no one’s had a peek inside her besides me, you, and –”

“ _Fitz_ ,” they finished at the same time, though when Jemma spoke it came out breathy and hopeful yet scared to death.

-

After weeks of tireless searching, research, and fighting with Mace to get him to realize that Fitz _was_ alive out there somewhere and it wasn’t a lost cause, they were finally led to another rundown warehouse, this one in Los Angeles and eerily similar to the one where Fitz had supposedly lost his life.

However, as they fought their way past hoards of Watchdogs acting as guards (with the surprise help of Daisy and her tentative friend Robbie), Jemma managed to slip past their defenses and get to a tiny little office in the back of the warehouse. There was a simple lock on the door, and Jemma was quick to shoot it off and out of her way.

She turned the knob, pushing open the door and immediately lifting her gun back up just in case there was a nasty surprise waiting inside. But, the gun fell from her hands when all she found was a dented metal desk absolutely covered with various bits and pieces of technology, and chained to the desk was the most welcome sight she had _ever_ laid eyes upon.

Fitz’s clothes were singed and torn from the explosion as well as dirty from being worn for so long, and she could see a few healing cuts and bruises that must’ve been sustained since his capture (boiling her blood and stirring her rage), but he was without a doubt the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“ _Fitz_ ,” she gasped, rushing toward him and collapsing in his arms, ignoring his obvious shock.

“ _Jemma_ ,” he mumbled against the top of her head, his one unchained arm wrapping around her, the other not quite able to make it far enough. “Jemma, you’re _here_.”

Though she’d already shed so many tears over his obviously staged death, Jemma felt no shame in breaking down again in that moment, pulling back to cup his face in her hands, to just _stare_ at him, at her favorite face in the world and the one she’d feared she’d never see again. “I’m so sorry I took so long. I’m sorry. I thought you were…I thought…” She trailed off, the words choked by sobs as she shook her head. “Oh _Fitz_.”

Even though it had been Fitz that was captured and held prisoner for weeks and forced to build LMDs for the Watchdogs, he still lifted his free hand to wipe away her tears, gently shushing her. “I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m right here, Jemma. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m here, love.”

And with those words, the broken pieces of her heart finally healed and she fell back into his arms, accepting the fact that he was alive and whole and safe in her arms, and she would never let him go again.

-

Nothing in life was perfect. Jemma Simmons was a realist, and as such, she had known that for much of her life. However, when she awoke to find herself wrapped up in the arms of her best friend and absolute love of her life after spending so long believing that she’d never be able to again, after thinking him to be dead and having to cope with losing everything that mattered to her, only to have it all returned to her in an instant, she could maybe believe, if only for a second, that perhaps perfection did exist.

It was late, or perhaps early, and their bedroom was still dark, moonlight slanting in through the cracks in the blinds and just barely highlighting Fitz’s sleeping face. Jemma desperately needed sleep, her body was still heavy and achy and begging for it, but her heart needed to check that it hadn’t all been a cruel dream, that she’d really found him and brought him home and back to where he belonged.

So, despite her bone-deep weariness, Jemma fought the urge to succumb to sleep once more and simply stared at Fitz, feeling his chest rising and falling beneath her cheek, listening to his heart beating in her ear. Carefully, she lifted a hand and traced a fingertip over his face, her touch feather-light as she mapped out the face she’d loved for almost half her life, the face she’d dreamt of and cried for the loss of and was haunted by for so long.

“Quit starin’ at me,” Fitz suddenly murmured through the dark, opening his eyes to peer at her with a soft smile. He reached up and caught her hand with his own, dropping a kiss on the back of her hand, followed by kisses to each of her fingers.

“Never,” Jemma whispered, swallowing back the fear that if she lost sight of him for even just a moment, he’d disappear again and this time she’d lose him for real.

Fitz’s smile faded, and he sighed quietly, gently placing Jemma’s hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Jem, stop worrying. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that,” she argued quietly, shaking her head slightly.

“Yeah, I do,” he insisted, “Wanna know why?”

Jemma didn’t respond for a moment, fighting the urge to continue arguing with him. She was just being logical, after all; there was no claim Fitz could make that would cause her to believe that he wasn’t going to suddenly die and leave her all over again. However, she finally relented, asking quietly, “Why?”

He cupped her cheek, gently tugging her up so that he could rest her forehead against his. “I’ve got far too much to live for.”

“People with plenty to live for die every day,” Jemma reminded him, fighting back the tightness in her throat at his words. She wanted to be realistic, and she wasn’t going to be charmed by his romantic declarations, not right now, not when his life could be on the line.

“Maybe,” Fitz agreed with a small shrug. Then, his arm slipped low around her waist, and it was the only warning she had before he’d twisted to the side, pressing her back into the mattress, his face hovering above hers so that she could see his grin. “But I bet those people don’t have a life with Jemma Simmons to look forward to. Makes me pretty lucky, if I do say so myself.”

“Fitz…” Jemma wanted to be serious for just a moment, because the threat of losing him was far too real now; she knew what a world without Fitz was like, she knew how it would feel to outlive him and it was _awful_. It was something she never wanted to experience again, couldn’t he understand that?

“Just…hold on a second.” Then, he leaned away, reaching for something, she could hear him fumbling and what sounded like a drawer opening and closing, but she couldn’t see what he was doing through the thick darkness. After a moment, he’d returned, his weight still resting on one arm as he pressed something small and cube-shaped into her hand. “Open it,” he insisted quietly.

Frowning, Jemma felt around the box, just about to ask what he was doing and if it could wait until they had light when she managed to flip it open and could feel inside it. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when her fingertips slid over the smooth, cool metal and the hard, pointed object that could only be a ring. “ _Fitz_ , what –”

“Marry me,” he whispered, and somehow his voice was firm, yet wavering under the strain of his emotions, nearly breaking on the word ‘marry’.

Jemma opened her mouth to say something, but what slipped out was a sharp sob, and she clenched her eyes shut, refusing to cry – she was so sick and tired of crying. Fitz, sweet, caring, _perfect_ Fitz leaned down to press comforting kisses to her face; to her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose. Finally, she had her tears under control, and she gasped out, “Yes. Yes, of course Fitz, yes. _Yes_.” Because even though she was utterly afraid of losing him, marriage wouldn’t change a damn thing, would it? She already loved him more than most people loved their spouses, she’d already loved him longer than some married couples had been together, and no matter what their relationship status, Fitz’s death would always hurt her in the exact same way – by signaling the end of a life worth living.

Almost instantly, his lips found hers, and they shared a passionate, messy, enthusiastic kiss of celebration. It ended in laughter, both of them collapsing into excited giggles against the other’s mouth, and when Fitz pulled away, it was to find the box she was still clutching tightly. Blindly, he removed the ring and found her left hand, sliding it onto the proper finger with only the moonlight and touch to guide the way. Then, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the ring, then her palm, murmuring against her skin, “This is a promise, Jemma. I promise that I will always come back to you, will always come _home_ to you. It’s promise of forever, okay? You and me, together, just like it’s always been, just like it’ll always be. ‘Cause I love you, Jemma, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

It was all she could’ve asked for, all he could possibly give even if it wasn’t everything she wanted (what she really wanted was for him to never be in danger again, but with the life they’d chosen that was hardly on the table), and it was more than enough for her. Gently freeing her hand from his grip, she cupped his face in both of her hands, gazing up at the one thing that meant the most to her in the universe. She smiled breathlessly and simply whispered, “I love you, Fitz,” and _god_ if the world didn’t seem perfect at that moment.

Though, realist or not, Jemma had to admit that that moment truly _was_ perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	52. 4x21/4x22 AU - "He's Mine Now"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Can I ask for a "he's mine now" where Aida gets away with fitz at the playground but as the team tries to save him Aida is taunting jemma".
> 
> “--” indicates that it’s switching from Jemma’s POV to Fitz’s

Jemma could hear the gunshots, the blood-curdling screams, and the inhuman shrieks of AIDA through Talbot’s radio, and she was _aching_ to find Fitz, to push her way past those soldiers and rescue him herself. Though they’d sent Piper, Prince, and Davis after him, she wouldn’t be convinced that he was safe until he was back by her side, in her arms – where he belonged. His words to AIDA were still ringing in her head, a constant reminder that he believed that their future together had ended the same moment that he’d pulled the trigger and ended Agnes’s life.

But, as long as she was in his heart, Jemma knew that they could still fix this, that she could still do her level best to convince Fitz that he wasn’t at fault for what happened in the Framework, that he was still a good man (the best she’d ever known).

When the containment module began to rise into the Zephyr, she turned to face it hastily, already beginning to feel relief washing over her – but it stopped cold when she saw only Piper behind the glass window.

_No. No. Nonononono._

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice nearly breaking under the strain of her pounding heart, “Where’s Fitz?”

Piper shook her head, her eyes wide as she explained hurriedly, her words constantly stopping and starting again, “She…she blew up the…I mean, lightning came out of her hands and she…she disappeared with him before we could…”

Jemma’s knees grew weak, and she just barely heard Daisy gasping about AIDA having Lincoln’s powers, and Coulson realizing that she had control over more than one Inhuman power. It was only distantly that she noticed May dashing off to get them out of there as soon as possible and Daisy threatening the soldiers with a raised hand.

He was _gone_. AIDA had taken him, god knew where. They hadn’t been able to save him, they’d _lost_ him again.

 _She_ had lost him again.

All of a sudden, she felt a foreign presence at her back, followed by the sound of guns cocking and sharp gasps echoing through the cargo hold. However, all of it was drowned out by the sinister whisper at her ear of, “He’s _mine_ now.”

And before anyone could react, before anyone could get off a single shot, she was gone.

Abruptly, Jemma’s fear for Fitz was joined by a surge of pure _anger_ , and she whirled around to face the place that AIDA had been, curling her hands into tight fists. She was going to find that tincan, and tear her apart with her bare hands – Inhuman powers be damned.

“What the hell was that thing, Coulson?” Talbot demanded.

“Something we need to get far away from as fast as possible,” Coulson replied, his voice tight.

“Drop your guns and you can come with us,” Daisy told them, still holding her hand out defensively.

“I don’t suggest staying, but the Zephyr’s leaving with or without you.”

It was a tense moment before Talbot ordered his men to fall back, and once they all had safely exited the Zephyr, they fled the base. Almost immediately, Jemma turned to Coulson and said hurriedly, “We have to find Fitz. He could…he could be in danger – we have no idea where she’s taken him or what her goals are or…”

“I know,” Coulson assured her, stepping closer so that he could place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Finding AIDA will be our first priority. She still has the Darkhold, after all, and we can’t let her do anymore damage with it.”

With that, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, and headed off further into the Zephyr, no doubt to find May to start talking strategy. Daisy seemed about to follow him, but paused and turned back to Jemma with a determined smile. “We’ll find him,” she told her reassuringly, and only once Jemma had managed a small nod in response did she follow Coulson.

Jemma only had to hope that Daisy was right – she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take, constantly being separated from Fitz, always having to find each other, only to be torn apart once again by some new horrible, unbelievable circumstance.

She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take, and she knew that eventually she and Fitz were going to have to have a long conversation about it; for now, though? She was going to rescue Fitz from that twisted robot if it was the last thing she did.

-

Sometime later, after Jemma and Daisy had spent a fair bit of time doing their best to keep the Framework from collapsing in on itself before Elena could extract Mack, Daisy returned to the Zephyr with a very much alive Robbie at her side.

Jemma could barely wait for him to finish conversing with Coulson and Daisy about the Darkhold before she stepped in, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice as she questioned, “You saw AIDA, didn’t you?”

He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, rattling the chain wrapped across his body as he did so. “Almost had her, too.”

“Did…did you see Fitz there?” she asked, unable to help the pleading note in her voice as she spoke his name. It’d been hours since they’d left the Playground, since AIDA had disappeared with him, since Jemma had last laid eyes on him; she hadn’t even gotten the chance yet to speak to him, to touch him, to tell him that she loved him.

Robbie seemed to hesitate, but he ultimately admitted, “Yeah, I did, but when she disappeared, she took him with her.”

Jemma pressed her lips together, attempting rein in her spiraling emotions for the umpteenth time, before she asked in a small voice, “How did he look?” All she wanted to know was if he was okay, if AIDA had hurt him in anyway, if he’d only gotten worse since she’d watched his breakdown in the Inhuman containment room.

“He looked pretty shook up,” Robbie offered, shrugging one shoulder.

Inhaling a quiet breath, Jemma nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, then turned on her heel and climbed the staircase back to the second level of the Zephyr to continue her vigil over the Framework.

It wasn’t long after that Daisy, Coulson, May, and Robbie went off to try and intercept Ivanov at the international meeting, leaving Jemma alone on the Zephyr to watch over Elena and Mack. She was giving all she had to keep it going long enough, to give Elena the time to convince Mack to leave with her, but her computer skills were nowhere near Daisy’s or Fitz’s; truthfully, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it up.

“You’ll never see him again.”

Jemma’s eyes grew wide, a chill running down her spine at the mocking voice coming from just over her shoulder. She spun around to face her, but she was already gone.

“He belongs with _me_ now.”

Once more, Jemma nearly tripped herself in her haste to follow AIDA’s voice, and once more, she was just a moment too late.

“It’s time for _our_ epic love story to begin, and time for yours to come to an end.”

That time, Jemma was quick enough to catch a glimpse of AIDA, her lips curled into a sickeningly smug smirk, and it was clear that she believed she’d already won. Without giving it a second thought, Jemma lunged forward to try and grab a hold of AIDA, to try and do _something_ to stop her only connection to Fitz from disappearing without a trace.

But, AIDA was gone before she could touch her, her fingers slicing through thin air.

Even still, with AIDA gone, Jemma couldn’t help but snap into the emptiness around her, “I never _wanted_ an epic love story – all I’ve ever wanted was Fitz!”

The words echoed in the empty room, only serving to remind her of how alone she truly was.

Fortunately, not much more time passed before the others returned to the Zephyr, more ready than ever to find AIDA and destroy her. With Coulson’s declaration that they were no longer on the defensive, that they were returning to the base and setting a trap for AIDA, he stepped up to Jemma and asked lowly, “What can you do to get AIDA where we need her?”

Without even having to think about it, Jemma replied, “We need to use what she wants most against her.”

\--

Fitz didn’t have the first clue how much time had passed since he and AIDA had left the Playground – it felt as though days had come and gone, but that couldn’t possibly be right; time seemed to be dragging on as he was forced to watch AIDA plotting to turn their world into the Framework, as she planned to take down SHIELD and find his team, attempted to stop them before they could stop her.

When she’d returned to the submarine where she’d stashed him with a half a dozen LMDs to make sure he stayed complacent, he wasn’t even sure where they were going this time, nor did he really care anymore. Truthfully, all he really felt was empty inside after the emotional turmoil of the past few days, of the fallout from his time in the Framework, of seeing Jemma again, of being kidnapped by AIDA once more.

However, when they appeared in what he instantly recognized was the server room of the Playground and his eyes quite suddenly fell upon Jemma, his emotions burst to life inside of him – gut-wrenching fear and guilt swelled inside of him until he felt that he was being choked by the strength of it.

“This would be much easier if Fitz were here,” Jemma had been mumbling to herself as she worked on one of the servers, looking exhausted and more than a little worse for wear (but she was still alive, still in one piece, thankfully).

“Well, here he is,” AIDA taunted, taking a step toward Jemma that had her turning hastily to face them. Instantly, her eyes locked with Fitz’s, and he tried to infuse as much apology into his gaze as he possibly could.

“No, no please, just leave Jemma alone,” Fitz pleaded, nearly tripping over the words in his haste to get them out before AIDA did anything to harm her. “You have me, alright? What more do you want?”

“I want _her_ out of the way,” AIDA snapped, taking another threatening step in Jemma’s direction. “I want you to watch her die so that you _know_ she’s gone, so that you can see her suffer because you rejected me _for her_.”

Fitz’s hands began to tremble as he hurried to follow AIDA, begging, “Please don’t do this Ophelia, _please_. I’ll go quietly, I promise I will.”

“It’s not worth it, Fitz,” Jemma informed him in low, tight voice, shaking her head as she narrowed her eyes in a fierce glare directed at AIDA. “She’s just a soulless machine – she doesn’t understand mercy.”

Snarling, AIDA began to stalk toward Jemma. “My only regret is that you won’t be able to watch as I take him for myself, as we have a life together – the life _you_ tried to steal from me.”

“No!” Fitz felt as though he’d run a marathon the way that he was gasping for breath, and he took another halted step toward where AIDA was too close to Jemma. “Please, I know that you must be overwhelmed with all of these feelings, but –”

“It is overwhelming,” AIDA told him, turning back around to face him as she scowled. “There are too many feelings, which is why I’ve decided to only feel one of them: vengeance. It’s hot and clean and sharp like a knife. And my vengeance is going to make _you_ suffer the way that _I_ have suffered.”

At that moment, Jemma suddenly struck with what appeared to be a screwdriver, obviously intending to stab AIDA in the neck with it. However, AIDA was too quick for her, grabbing Jemma’s hand and twisting them around until the point of the screwdriver was poised before Jemma’s heart. And then, before Fitz could even take a breath, she’d stabbed her directly in the chest.

“ _NOOO_!” The scream was torn from Fitz’s throat, leaving it raw as tears sprung up in his eyes. Bending over double and catching himself on the server bank, he fought for breath. All he could do was watch as Jemma’s face contorted in pain, as she struggled, as she _bled_ – it was the worst torture imaginable, it was his worst nightmare come to life.

“Beg me to let her live,” AIDA commanded harshly.

Feeling as though he was about to be sick, as though his heart was going to burst right through his ribcage, Fitz pleaded desperately, “Let her go! Just…just let her… Don’t _do_ this! Please! I’ll do whatever you want, I swear, as long as you _please_ let her go!”

With a smirk, AIDA informed him plainly, “Too late.” Turning her head to look at Jemma, she added, “This is making me feel better. Fitz, why do we feel better when we make someone else suffer?”

“Because there’s something wrong with you, you psych- _oh,_ ” Jemma’s insult ended in a cry of pain as AIDA twisted the screwdriver, and Fitz physically flinched away, more tears rolling down his cheeks as he was brought back to the year before, when he’d had to listen to Jemma’s screams of pain and had been unable to do anything to help her.

And though he’d vowed to never let it happen again, to _protect_ her, there he was, unable to stop her from being hurt, from being tortured once more.

“Stop! _Stop_! Please, _please_ just spare Jemma,” he continued to plead, hoping and praying that he’d say _something_ that might get through to AIDA, that might cause her to give up on her vengeance long enough to let Jemma get away.

“So it’s Jemma now? Trying to humanize her? I’m afraid you’re going to have to do better than that.” And then she twisted the screwdriver once more, causing Jemma to let out another sharp cry.

“They have the Darkhold!” Fitz reminded her, grasping at straws now. “We can go get it, then we can leave!” He knew that helping AIDA to retrieve the Darkhold was the last thing he should be doing, that he was very likely sacrificing the rest of the world for Jemma, but in that moment he would’ve given _anything_ to insure her safety. “Please, let Jemma go, then we’ll find the Darkhold and we’ll leave.”

“Fitz, _Fitz_ ,” Jemma gasped out, lifting her eyes to meet his as she managed to whisper painfully, “I…I _love_ you.”

And then, without even giving him the time to assure her that he still loved her, that he always had and had never stopped, even though he shouldn’t, even though all his love seemed to do was hurt her, AIDA lifted her hand, and zapped a bolt of energy straight through Jemma’s body.

“ _JEMMA_!” Fitz shrieked, his heart freezing in his chest and his stomach plummeting to the ground as he watched Jemma’s body jerk with the surge of electricity, before she hit the floor in a heap. Immediately, he dropped to his knees beside her, heedless of AIDA’s continued presence.

“I’ll be back for you,” AIDA warned him before teleporting away, but he barely heard it as he focused solely on Jemma.

With trembling hands, he cradled Jemma’s cold fingers, bending his head to drop tear-soaked kisses against her skin. “This is all my fault,” he murmured shakily, “I’m so _sorry_ , Jemma. It should’ve…it should’ve been _me_ , not you – it never should’ve been _you_. And now…now I’m out of time to make it right. You deserved so much more than this…you deserved the world, Jemma, and I never should have tried because…because I was never enough – this was always going to happen because of me, because I’m a bad person, and you…you just got caught up in it.”

For a moment, he was unable to go on, choking on the sobs building up in his throat. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, much like he’d done so many times before (Jemma had always found it soothing), as his chin wobbled with the force of his tears.

“I…I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. “What am I supposed to do now that you’re…” He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly to try and stem the flow of the burning tears, to no avail. “I know I shouldn’t but… _god_ Jemma, I love you. I love you so much and I…I would give everything I have for you to come back to me – I’d offer my own life if I could. I swear Jemma, I would.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

At the soft murmur, Fitz let out gasp of violent shock, his eyes tearing open to find through the haze of his tears that Jemma was standing in the doorway with a small, albeit concerned, smile on her face and not a drop of blood in sight. He dropped his gaze to the body on the floor, and now that the panic and grief had faded somewhat, he could tell that it was an _LMD_ , not the real Jemma.

Hastily stumbling to his feet, Fitz caught himself on the bank of servers, gasping for breath as he held a hand to his rapidly beating heart. “Are…are you alright? Where’s…”

“AIDA’s been taken care of,” Jemma informed him simply. “We’re all alright now.”

His shoulders slumping in relief, he released a shaky sigh and nodded in understanding. Then, his head jerked up, and he told her sharply, “Don’t ever scare me like that again, _Jesus_ Jemma.”

Jemma took a small step toward him, arching an eyebrow as she replied, “As long as you promise never to scare _me_ like that again; I’ve been so worried about you since AIDA took you. I…I was so afraid that I’d never see you again.”

Nodding toward her lifeless LMD, though he refused to look at the gruesome sight any longer, he told her lowly, “I know the feeling.”

She took another, slightly hesitant step in his direction as her brows drew together pleadingly. “Fitz…we can’t keep doing this.”

Fitz’s eyes fell closed then, only for images to flash across the backs of his eyelids; Jemma with a gun to her head, Jemma with a screwdriver sticking out of her chest, Jemma lifeless and crumpled on the floor in a pool of her own blood. He knew then what he had to do to ensure that none of it ever happened again.

So, he gave a short nod and agreed firmly, “It has to end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	53. 4x20/4x21 AU + Pregnancy Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "could you continue your 4x19/4x20 + pregnancy au? Maybe have it continue into 4x21 and 4x22 and possibly into space???" 
> 
> Continuation of Ch 39

Ever since AIDA had gotten away from them during their rescue of Fitz, things had only seemed to get progressively _worse_ , something Jemma hadn’t thought possible after finding that most of their friends had been replaced by LMDs, having to fight their way past them only to enter a virtual reality where HYDRA was in charge, eventually saving their friends only to lose Fitz to AIDA once more, and _then_ , on top of all of that, finding out that she was pregnant.

But, even though she hadn’t thought it possible, it was happening; the Framework had started collapsing in on itself, threatening the lives of both Mack and Elena, then Daisy had been implicated in the shooting of Talbot and AIDA had escaped their reach once more, and now, Coulson wanted Fitz and Jemma to work together to come up with some way to lure AIDA into a trap at the Playground.

The air between Jemma and Fitz had been tense ever since he’d returned to the Zephyr after his most recent kidnapping; Jemma hadn’t been sure of what she’d been hoping for, if she truly had believed the existence of their child growing inside of her would set them on the path to healing. But, whatever it was that she’d been hoping for, it most certainly wasn’t the tense air hanging around them in the lab on the Zephyr. She’d been trying for some time now to brainstorm ideas on how to get AIDA where they needed her, but Fitz had been practically nonverbal for the entire discussion, keeping his gaze settled firmly on the floor.

Finally, Jemma set down her tablet and sighed heavily. She noticed Fitz’s head twitch upwards, but he still refused to meet her eyes. “Fitz, _please_ , I need you to work with me on this. We need to stop AIDA once and for all, and with Robbie’s help, we should be able to do that. _But_ , he can’t do anything if we can’t find some way to get AIDA to him without her catching on to our plan.”

Fitz’s shoulders rose and fell on a silent sigh, and he crossed his arms uncomfortably over his chest. “I know,” he finally mumbled, giving a tiny little nod.

“So…so please, just _talk_ to me,” Jemma all-but pleaded, taking a couple of cautious steps across the distance he’d been sure to keep between them ever since the hug they’d shared after his rescue.

She heard him exhale shakily, tapping his fingers against his opposite forearm, before he said abruptly, “I dunno how…how can you even stomach looking at me?”

Startled, Jemma paused in her progression toward him, her outstretched fingers freezing in the open air between them. “What?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. She couldn’t have heard that right, could she?

“I mean you…you have to remember it, remember seeing me…shoot that woman every time that you do.” His chin wobbled, and he snapped his eyes shut and hastily turned away from her. “Don’t lie to me, Jemma, because I know…I know, okay? I don’t blame you. I’m…I’m not the man that you thought I was, and it’s… I understand that we have no future together anymore. You don’t have to pretend.”

“ _Pretend_?” Jemma gasped out, blinking rapidly to fight back the hot tears collecting on the rims of her eyes. She’d been expecting that he’d break down at some point, but she hadn’t been expecting _this_ ; despite the guilt she knew he was carrying, she foolishly hadn’t imagined that he’d try to push her away because of it. “Fitz, I’m not…we…”

Before she could manage to collect her thoughts, scattered by the heartbreak of Fitz’s words, he continued on hoarsely, “I don’t deserve to be a father, do I? After everything that I’ve done, all of the people that I’ve hurt…I’m only gonna hurt them and I…I can’t…” He gave a jerky shake of his head, the very idea of hurting their child obviously too painful for him to continue that thought. “I mean, look how _my_ father was – is that the kind of father that I’m doomed to be? Was I always gonna turn into him?”

“ _No_ ,” Jemma insisted immediately, her denial fierce; Fitz could _never_ be that man, and he had to understand that. “Fitz, you –”

But, he clearly wasn’t listening, as he half-turned back to her then, so that she could see the tears rolling steadily down his cheeks. He was obviously intending to be firm, but instead only sounded defeated and dejected as he told her, “Our…the baby will have a better life without…without me in it, okay?”

Quite suddenly, Jemma’s gut-wrenching sadness was eclipsed by frustration and anger, her hands curling into fists at her sides and her eyes narrowing. Decisively, she told him, “Well, I don’t believe _any_ of that. In fact, I can’t _believe_ that you’d leave me alone to raise our child because you think you’re some kind of monster – shouldn’t _I_ get to choose who is right or wrong to be raising my child with me? And, not to mention that I’m quite sure that I wasn’t alone when this baby was _conceived_.”

Looking quite bewildered, Fitz had turned to face her fully at some point during her impassioned speech, and she was satisfied with the fact that he was _finally_ looking at her, finally meeting her gaze. It was progress, at least. “Jemma…”

“I mean, yes, given a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen to have a child _now_ , not when things are so up in the air and tumultuous, but…but this baby is here, Fitz, and isn’t going anywhere. We need to accept that, and you need to remember that…that you not only have a responsibility to me, but also to our baby.” As he hung his head once more, she took a half-step closer and softened her tone as she said, “You’ve been through so much, and I understand that you have a lot to work through, but…we can get through this together; I’ll still be here for you, Fitz, still by your side. We’re a team, we’re partners, and that will never change, no matter what happened in the Framework, because…well, none of it was _real_ , and we are. Alright?”

Fitz lifted his head, meeting her searching gaze uncertainly, and after a moment, he released a shuddering breath and dropped his gaze once more. It wasn’t an agreement, but it also wasn’t a rejection, so Jemma simply decided to take it as a win for now.

“Now, all we need to do is find a way to get AIDA to where we need her to be.” Jemma picked her tablet back up, tapping a finger against it in thought.

Fitz gave a half-shrug, then said, “Well…we just need to find something that she can’t resist the temptation of; she’s driven by emotion now, not reason.”

She mulled that over for a moment, absently trailing the fingers of her free hand over her stomach as she did so. However, they paused as it occurred to her in a flash of inspiration. “Fitz, that’s _it_! AIDA’s feeling vengeful, because she feels something’s been taken from her. After all, she threatened _me_ , didn’t she?”

With a jolt to his body that looked quite painful, Fitz jerked his head up to show his wide, terrified eyes. “No. _No_ , absolutely not. I refuse to put you in anymore danger than you’ve already been in; even that was too much.”

Jemma was about to insist that it was their only option and that she could take care of herself, but then she remembered something that one of the other agents at the Playground had mentioned to her during their brief return trip, something that they’d discovered hidden away after the explosive escape she and Daisy had conducted. “What if…it wasn’t me that was in danger at all?”

Fitz frowned in confusion, even as Jemma’s lips curled up in a smile.

-

Sometime later, after Fitz and Jemma’s LMD had lured AIDA right into their trap, and the Rider (inhabiting Coulson’s body) had disappeared with her to see justice served, Jemma hurried through the halls of the Playground, unable to help her relieved sigh when she caught sight of Fitz coming her way.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently as they met in the middle, reaching up to thumb away a stray tear sliding down his cheek. After watching the light go out of Fitz’s LMD’s eyes, she understood how hard it must’ve been for him to watch something with her face as it struggled, and ultimately was killed by AIDA right in front of him as he stood helplessly by.

Fitz nodded, sniffling a bit and stepping back out of her reach, but didn’t say anything else as they hurried off to Coulson and AIDA battling it out nearby. The overwhelming relief Jemma felt as she watched the android that had caused them all so much pain and heartache turned to ash was hard to describe, and she cupped a hand protectively over her stomach as she watched, promising her unborn baby silently that the danger had finally passed.

Now, they were all going to be okay.

And she truly believed that, until they’d bid their goodbyes to Robbie as he left to take care of the Darkhold, and all of a sudden Fitz was insisting that he stay behind and face the music for his actions, that he take the fall for everything that Radcliffe and AIDA had caused. She was _appalled_ and more than a little hurt, after having been so sure that they’d at least agreed to work together and heal, that he’d at least agreed to be there for their baby.

But, then she remembered that he’d never actually said a word in response, had never agreed to anything, and she was all-but crippled by fear as she watched him slipping through her fingers once more. She could only listen in stunned silence as Daisy tried to get Fitz to see reason, and did her best to infuse as much feeling as possible into her “amen”, to show him that they _were_ in this together, just like they always had been, just like they always would be, if she had anything to say about it.

By some stroke of luck, they seemed to get through to him, and Fitz reluctantly agreed to face whatever was coming together.  Jemma had to take a moment then to calm her racing heart; she wasn’t going to lose him, not this time, not now.

Things weren’t great, but she knew that with a little time, they could get better, they could begin to heal; after all, she was confident that Fitz would make a wonderful father, even if he couldn’t see it himself yet. At least she was going to have the chance to show him how wrong he was about their baby not needing him.

However, they’d decided to face the consequences together, as a team, and that meant it was only a matter of time before they were found at a local diner. Jemma knew that whatever was going to happen next, the situation wouldn’t exactly be _ideal_ for raising a child, but at least she’d have Fitz with her.

While she’d prepared for a lot of things to happen next, though, blacking out and subsequently waking up in _space_ (something she’d hoped and prayed she’d never have to do again) wasn’t one of them.

From what she could gather, it was some kind of a base for an organization (she couldn’t tell if they were government or not, not yet), but it felt far more like a prison, the way she was left alone in a locked cell with all of her personal items confiscated from her before she’d even woken up.

And, of course, there was the startling lack of Fitz anywhere nearby, which was the worst punishment imaginable.

The very first day, she was put through a battery of tests to get “checked in”, the last of which put her in an exam room with what seemed to be the resident doctor. By then, Jemma was exhausted and seriously annoyed, and couldn’t quite help the bite in her tone as she informed the doctor currently taking her blood, “I’m going to save you some time, and tell you that when you test that, you’re going to find that I’m pregnant.”

More than a little taken aback, the woman leaned away slightly, arching her eyebrows and glancing down at the vial of Jemma’s blood. “ _Oh_. I wasn’t notified about –”

“Because they didn’t know,” Jemma interrupted, her remaining patience thinning with every passing moment. “You know, if we’re going to be held here against our wills, the very _least_ you could do is allow me to see my child’s father.”

The woman was clearly unsure, and admitted slowly, “Well…that’s not…it’s not up to me, but…”

“But I’m sure you’ll pass the information along,” Jemma finished, arching an eyebrow.

And somehow (she imagined that it had something to do with the ire that only continued to rise in her with the ongoing frustration of their circumstances that had convinced their captors, in the end), over the next few days, she’d gotten their “assignments” changed and had them moved to a double room.

When Fitz was brought there just a few days after their capture, he was obviously shocked to find Jemma waiting for him, and hesitated in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the guard still waiting outside. “Maybe I _should_ be kept away from you,” he murmured, shuffling anxiously as a deep frown curved his lips.

She could already tell that the few days he’d been left in solitude had done his heavily weighing guilt no favors. But, she’s already known that she had her work cut out for her, and she’d prepared for this moment.

So, with a soft sigh, Jemma stood from her seat on the edge of the bed, grasping Fitz’s hand and tugging him over to sit back down with her. “Fitz, I’m not asking for you to be with me, to love me, to marry me – I’m just asking that my best friend be here by my side as I carry our child. I’m asking that we do our best to heal together from what’s happened, that we do what we can to maintain our friendship, because I can’t imagine my life without it. And then, someday…maybe we can talk about something more. But, for now, that’s all I want from you, my best friend.”

Fitz gazed back at her sadly for a moment, giving a slight shake of his head as he admitted, “I…I’m not sure that I can even do that.” He paused, inhaling a short breath, then went on shakily, “But…I’ll try, because I owe it to you, and I can at least pay _this_ debt.”

Smiling softly, she reached out to find his hand once more, lacing their fingers together and tugging their joined hands to rest in her lap. “You’ve never owed me anything, Fitz. I’m not keeping score, and you shouldn’t be either.” He simply shrugged in response, so she scooted closer and laid her cheek against his shoulder, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.”

As Fitz gave her hand a little squeeze, she pressed her free hand to her stomach, and hoped that this was a new start for them, that despite the circumstances, they were going to do what they could to move on together and heal. Whatever was going on around them, Jemma knew that as long as she had Fitz, in whatever capacity his healing heart would allow, and they were there for their baby, everything would be just fine.

Things were far from perfect just then, but as long as their little family was together and would be for the foreseeable future, there was always the chance that they would be again somewhere down the line.

For Jemma, that was more than enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	54. Astronaut AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Fitzsimmons 'Growing up, you always said you would marry an astronaut. So I became one to show you how I feel.'"

Ever since she was very little, and her father had started taking her outside at night to stare up at the sky, Jemma Simmons had loved the stars. Even now that it had been a few years and she was a bit older, it was still Jemma’s very favorite thing to do on warm summer nights, to throw a blanket down in her backyard and lie back to gaze up at the stars that she loved so dearly.

However, it was never as fun as it was when her best friend in the world, Fitz, was lying beside her, like he was that night.

“Can you imagine living among the stars?” she asked him in a hushed voice, barely loud enough to be heard over the chirping of crickets in the bushes nearby. “I just know that’s where I belong, you know. Just _look_ at them, Fitz.” Jemma lifted a hand, pointing to the constellations above them.

“They’re amazing,” Fitz agreed, matching her whispered tone.

“Someday,” she started, lowering her voice even more as she confessed to the secret dream she’d had for some time, “I’m going to marry an astronaut, so we can go to the stars together.”

He didn’t say anything at first, making her a bit anxious, but then he asked curiously, “Why don’t you just become an astronaut?”

Pursing her lips, Jemma mulled the question over for a moment, but then she shook her head and told him, “Well I could, but then I’d have to go alone – at least if I marry an astronaut, then we can go to the stars together. And besides,” she added with a little grin, “I’ve got it all planned out; I’m going to be a biologist – or a chemist, I haven’t decided yet – and then I’ll marry my astronaut, and we’ll go live on Mars together, and start a new civilization there.”

Fitz grew quiet once more, though his silence began to stretch on a little longer this time. Abruptly, Jemma realized that she’d left out the most important part of her plans.

“And you can come visit us anytime on Mars, of course. You could even live there with us! Because we’ll still be best friends, obviously – I mean, we’ll _always_ be best friends.” Her tone was emphatic, just as firm as the belief she had in her statement was; she couldn’t even begin to imagine a world where Fitz _wasn’t_ her best friend.

After a moment, Fitz’s voice filled the darkness around them, much softer than hers had been as he agreed, “Always.”

-

More than a little exhausted, but beaming with excitement, Jemma shut the door to her flat behind her and tossed her purse onto the counter as she called out, “Daisy?”

“In the living room!” her roommate, Daisy, responded, her voice echoing through the little flat.

“We finally found an anti-serum for that virus,” Jemma informed her happily as she toed off her shoes and carefully nudged them into their place beside the front door.

“ _Great_ ,” Daisy replied, the relief in her tone obvious even across the short distance between them, “I finally don’t have to worry about contracting a deadly virus without a vaccine when I’m doing laundry.”

Rolling her eyes, Jemma entered the living room then, reminding Daisy pointedly, “It’s an _anti-serum_ , not a vaccine,” as she dropped onto the couch beside her.

“Oh _whatever_.” Daisy let out a groan of annoyance then as she complained, “There’s never anything good on TV, I swear.” Lifting the remote, she began flicking through the channels at a steady pace, passing by children’s programming and badly-written drama shows.

Then, Jemma caught sight of a report on a local news station, talking about a NASA rocket launch that was coming up soon. “Oh, leave it here for a moment,” she requested, settling in to watch the report curiously. She’d heard brief mentions here and there about the launch, but she’d been so busy in the lab with the anti-serum that she hadn’t had much time to do her own research on it, like she normally tended do with upcoming NASA missions.

Currently, they were talking about how a group of astronauts were going to be heading up to the International Space Station, where they would then send a new and improved probe to Mars. “ _We have one of the lead engineers on the project here with us now_ ,” the reporter was saying, just as the image on the screen cut to a man with closely-cropped curls, a stubbled beard, and brilliant blue eyes.

Frowning, Jemma unconsciously leant in a bit closer to study the man, finding something so _familiar_ about him. Truthfully, he almost looked like…

But, that just had to be her imagination, of course. It wasn’t actually –

Just as she was trying to convince herself she was wrong, a banner stretched across the bottom of the screen, declaring the man Dr. Leopold Fitz. As she was proven startlingly correct, Jemma gasped violently, her eyes growing wide as she scrambled to sit up straight.

Fitz was talking now, explaining a little more about the mission and the probe and…that _voice_ – it was older and more mature than the last time she’d heard it, of course, but she’d recognize that accent anywhere, would recognize that smile and his slightly awkward chuckle and the way he nervously scratched at the back of his neck as he talked.

“Jemma?” Daisy prompted worriedly. “What’s going on?”

“ _Shh_ ,” Jemma shushed her hastily, fumbling for the remote so that she could turn the sound up higher.

“ _When are you due to launch?_ ” the reporter was asking Fitz.

“ _Um, well, if everything goes to plan, then we’re set to launch in just a few days_ ,” Fitz answered, and Jemma noticed him tugging at his ear uncomfortably. Her heart filled with a warmth that she hadn’t felt in such a long time at the sight of the familiar old mannerism.

“ _And how long will you be gone?_ ”

“ _Ah, yes, well that depends on everything working out right, but it should be a little over six months_ ,” he replied, shrugging slightly as he gave a slight smile.

“ _Thank you for your time, Dr. Fitz, and good luck._ ”

Fitz thanked the reporter, then he disappeared from the screen, and the station moved onto their next story for the night. Jemma sagged back against the couch, unable to believe…after all this _time_ …

“What’s going on?” Daisy repeated, her tone slightly more demanding as she said the words this time.

Absently, Jemma asked, “Do you remember me mentioning my old friend Fitz?”

“Well yeah, you talk about him all the…” She trailed off suddenly, before letting out a sharp gasp. “Wait, that was _him_?” When Jemma nodded, she asked, “Why did you never mention that he was an astronaut? That’s so cool!”

Shrugging expressively, Jemma admitted, “I hadn’t had the first clue that he was one, to be honest; we haven’t seen each other since we graduated from high school and went our separate ways to university. We kept in touch for awhile, but eventually it got too hard with everything else going on in our lives at the time.” She was quiet a moment, thinking back on the last time she’d seen Fitz, the last time they’d spoken, and her heart ached at how much time had been allowed to pass since then without another word between them. Almost to herself, she added softly, “I always knew that he’d wanted to be an engineer, but…”

Even though the report was over, she was still staring at the screen where he’d been minutes before, almost in a daze as she thought about how long it truly had been, how much she’d _missed_ him, how different he looked and sounded. She had to wonder what else was different about him, what had stayed the same, what else did he have going on his life now?

And more importantly, did he ever wonder about her the way that she often wondered about him?

Out of nowhere, Daisy spoke up to say, “You should go see him.”

Even as she whirled around to gape at her in astonishment, Jemma would never admit that she was immediately tempted by the admittedly insane idea. To Daisy, however, she said, “I can’t just pack up and fly across the country to see _Fitz_ – it’s been almost a decade since the last time we saw each other, and he might not even _remember_ me, Daisy!”

Daisy scoffed disbelievingly at that, folding her arms over her chest. “Oh come on, that’s _impossible_ , especially after how long you guys were friends. And plus, this is your last chance to see him for _six months_ , and who knows where he’ll be after he gets back?” She gestured to the TV then, and insisted, “Jemma, this had to be a _sign_. This is the universe telling you to go see him, and you can’t just _ignore_ the universe.”

Fighting down the urge to remind Daisy that the universe didn’t give “signs”, she argued weakly, “What about work?”

“ _Work_? Jemma, you’ve never taken a sick day or a vacation – if they can’t give you time off to go see your childhood best friend, then they don’t deserve you.”

Chewing her lip anxiously, Jemma thought over the impulsive, crazy idea, and couldn’t help but feel that seeing Fitz again _would_ be wonderful – there were days where he was all that she could think about, nights where she couldn’t sleep, too caught up in imagining what Fitz was doing at that very moment. Being without him, Jemma had found, was horrible, and she really would love to get back into touch, even if was only for a short time before he left.

So, she took a deep breath and decided to take a risk for once in her life, rushing to announce, “Okay, I’m going.”

“ _Yes_! Alright, Simmons!” Daisy cheered happily, sliding her phone out of her pocket as she offered, “I’ll find you the first flight available while you start packing.”

As Jemma sprung up to do just that, her heart surged in her chest with an overwhelming, nervous excitement, buzzing through her veins until it’d filled her from head to toe. With a quiet, disbelieving laugh, she thought to herself that she was really doing this; she was _really_ going to see Fitz again.

-

The next day, Jemma found herself standing on what she’d been able to find out easily enough was Fitz’s doorstep, trembling with nerves and wondering now that she was there if this was even a good idea anymore.

What if he really didn’t remember her? Or, what if he did, and he was upset with her for not trying to see him sooner? What if this was all just one big mistake?

Shaking her head at herself for being so ridiculously impulsive, she whispered to herself, “What am I even _doing_ here?”

Jemma began to turn around so that she could just leave and get on the first flight back home, but before she could even take a step, she paused. It occurred to her then that, there she was, with just a _door_ separating her from Fitz; she was so close to him, so close to seeing him again after dreaming about it for _years_.

With another quick shake of her head at how silly she was being (it was just _Fitz_ after all, the one person in the world who’d always known her better than anyone), she took a deep, steadying breath and stepped back up to the door. Before she could allow herself the chance to lose her nerve once more, she lifted a fist to knock on the door, and then waited with baited breath, rocking back and forth on her heels anxiously.

It was a lengthy moment before she heard footsteps, her heartbeat picking up speed as the knob turned and the door opened and then…

And then he was standing there, right in front of her, and Jemma wanted to cry because he was real and he was _Fitz_ and it had been far, _far_ too long. He was staring wordlessly at her, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, so she shifted awkwardly and said simply, “Hi Fitz.”

She started to introduce herself, but then Fitz asked hoarsely, “Jemma? Is…is that really you?”

A brilliant grin burst across Jemma’s face, the urge to cry becoming stronger because he _remembered_ her. With a watery little laugh, she replied teasingly, “Who else would it be?”

There was a beat of silence, then Fitz surged forward and embraced her, and Jemma promptly dropped her suitcase so that she could hug him back just as tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. How was it possible that he still smelled exactly the same? That he was just as warm and comforting as she’d remembered – she could have sworn that she’d built that up in her memory.

After a long moment of them simply embracing each other, Fitz mumbled into her shoulder, “What are you doing here?”

She laughed quietly, turning her head to press her face against his neck, breathing him in greedily as she told him, “I saw you on the news and…and my roommate convinced me to come see you.”

“I’m so glad that you did,” he murmured, “I’ve thought about trying to get back in touch with you for years, but…” His sentence trailed off then, moments before he pulled back. Though she was reluctant to let go after waiting so long to be close to him again, she forced herself to, stepping back to share a smile with him. “Come in,” he said quickly, leaning down to pick up her suitcase for her and leading her inside to sit on the little loveseat in his relatively small quarters. “D’you want some tea?”

“Oh, yes please,” Jemma answered as she had a brief look around. There wasn’t much to see, since it appeared that Fitz was only staying there for a little bit, and she couldn’t help but indulge in the idea of what Fitz’s actual home might look like – it’d be a lot messier than this, that was for sure.

He returned a few minutes later, holding two cups of tea, one of which he passed her before perching on the loveseat beside her. She took a little sip, and hid a smile at finding that he still remembered how she took it (just like she still remembered how he took his).

“So…what are you up to nowadays?” Fitz asked curiously, leaning back against the arm of the loveseat and focusing his full attention on her.

Jemma gave a little shrug, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she explained, “Well, I have degrees in both biology and chemistry, and I’ve worked in a couple of different labs since graduating from university, but I’ve been at the same one for about two years now. That’s…well, honestly, that’s where I spend most of my free time, and the rest I spend with my roommate, Daisy.” Cutting herself off there, she said wryly, “But none of that is nearly as interesting as your life, of course.” Shaking her head in awe, she admitted, “I just can’t believe that you’re an _astronaut_ , Fitz.”

Fitz gave a slight shrug, flushing a little as he hastened to assure her, “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Jemma opened her mouth to argue that it was certainly _something_ , but he changed the subject before she could, asking, “How are your parents?”

It went on that way for some time, with them volleying questions back and forth to each other, spending the afternoon doing their best to catch up on everything that had happened in the ten years they’d spent apart. Eventually, though, Jemma caught sight of the time and said grudgingly, “I should probably go.”

Fitz didn’t seem too keen to see her leave either, standing up hastily to follow her to the door. “How long are you here for?”

She hesitated for a moment, then confessed, “Well, I haven’t…actually bought my ticket home yet, and I do have quite a bit of vacation time to use up, so…”

“Would you like to spend tomorrow together, then?” Fitz asked, seeming to jump at the chance, his eyes wide with hope. “I want to see you as much as possible before the launch.”

“I’d really like that,” Jemma assured him, a wide grin curving her lips to match the one currently stretching across Fitz’s face.

-

Over the next couple of days, Jemma spent every single moment that she possibly could with Fitz, continuing to catch up, going to museums, out to eat, or simply just spending time together like they used to. Sometimes, it was almost as though no time had passed, and they still were just two teenagers hanging out in his basement, watching movies with the lights off.

But, she was always quite quick to remember that they _weren’t_ teenagers anymore, that they were grown adults now, and though time and distance had come between them, they’d found each other once more and their friendship was just as effortless as it had ever been.

On the last day before the launch, Jemma found herself constantly wishing that Fitz didn’t have to go, found that she selfishly wanted him to stay here, now that they were together again, now that she finally had him back in her life. However, she knew that that wasn’t possible, so she’d resolved to simply spend as much time of the day as possible together, which was exactly what she did.

Fitz had told her early that morning when she’d showed up at his quarters that he had a surprise for her, but that they’d have to wait until nighttime for her to receive it. After he’d passed the day by showing her around the space center, the sun had finally gone down, and Fitz drove them out to a little field, far away from the lights of the nearest town.

“What are we doing?” Jemma asked curiously as Fitz led the way out into the middle of the field, unfolding and laying out the blanket that he’d had draped over his arm.

“C’mon,” Fitz encouraged instead of answering her question, dropping down onto the blanket and lying back, patting the empty spot beside him.

With a very good idea now of what Fitz had in mind, Jemma pressed her lips together to hide her smile and knelt down beside him, then leaned back to lie down so that she could gaze up at the stars lighting the sky far above them. “This is wonderful, Fitz,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

“Um, actually, I…” He went quiet for a moment, clearly collecting his thoughts, before he went on, “Do you remember doing this, when we were kids?”

Not bothering to hold back her smile anymore, Jemma turned her head to look at him as she answered, “Of course I do; it was one of my favorite ways to spend summer nights.”

He inhaled, then exhaled shakily. “Do…do you remember what you used to say about the stars?”

Frowning, Jemma turned her gaze back to the stars that she knew so well, thinking back all those years to when they were young. But, even after a couple of minutes searching her memories, nothing terribly important was sticking out to her, so she admitted, “No, I don’t. What did I say?”

She heard him take another uneven breath, then whisper, “Growing up, you always said you would marry an astronaut. So…I became one to…to show you how I feel.”

In that moment, even though it was scientifically impossible, it felt as though time stopped, everything around her seeming to freeze as her heart skipped a beat in her chest. Did he really mean… Was he really saying that he…?

Everything suddenly felt upside down, nothing made sense anymore, and she wondered wildly how _long_ he’d felt this way, wondered why he’d never said anything, wondered why _now_ , after all this time?

Then, of course, she had to ask herself, how did _she_ feel about it?

Jemma had to admit that she’d never thought of Fitz as anything more than her best friend in the world, but…but then she thought back over the past few days, thought about the way that he made her feel more than any of her boyfriends ever had, thought about how she just wanted to be with him, to be close to him, never wanted to be without him again, and…

And Jemma just knew, instinctively, that whatever it was that Fitz felt, she felt it too, and it was entirely likely that she probably always had – why had she never even _noticed_ …?

They’d wasted so much _time_.

“Jemma?” Fitz asked uncertainly, after she’d been quiet for likely too long.

Resolving to not waste anymore time, not even another _second_ , Jemma rolled onto her side and lifted a hand to cup his cheek, tugging him around to face her. With his wide, worried gaze on her, she wordlessly leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

Fitz was clearly taken aback, releasing a stuttered gasp against her mouth, but it wasn’t long before he was responding to her kiss, one of his hands sliding along the curve of her waist to grasp at her hip. She smirked into the kiss, scooting closer until she could press herself along the length of him, slinging a leg over both of his.

As a child, Jemma had always thought that she belonged among the stars, but in that moment, there was she was still far beneath them, and she could finally see now that her home hadn’t been in the sky above her after all; instead it had always been right there in front of her.

-

When Jemma returned to her flat the following day, Daisy was waiting practically right at the door for her, just about chomping at the bit. “What happened?” she demanded, stepping back to allow Jemma to actually come inside.

The entire flight home, Jemma hadn’t been able to decide whether she wanted to smile with complete and utter joy, or to cry, because she already missed Fitz so much that her heart _ached_ with it. Even now, it was still a toss-up. “Give me a moment to breathe, will you?” she teased, arching an eyebrow at Daisy.

“Well, at least tell me if you’re going to stay in touch this time,” she compromised. “I mean, you owe me that, since it _was_ my idea for you to go see him.”

“Alright,” Jemma agreed. “Yes, we’re going to keep in touch – we can even talk while he’s up on the space station.”

Daisy grinned happily as she said leadingly, “So, things went well, then…?”

Nodding, Jemma finally allowed a sly smile to slip through as she set her suitcase down by the door. “Yes, I’d say that things went pretty well.”

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Daisy questioned, “What’s the smile for?”

Taking a moment to set down her purse and toe off her shoes, Jemma then asked her, “What are you doing in six months, two weeks, and four days?”

Daisy blinked a couple of times, clearly caught completely off-guard by the seemingly off-topic question. “Uh…nothing, I guess? Why? And what does that have to do with Fitz?”

Reaching into her purse, Jemma came back with a little rectangle of paper, and held it out to Daisy as she answered all of Daisy’s questions by asking one herself, “Well then, would you like to attend my wedding?”

“ _What_?!” Daisy yanked the paper from her hand, quickly scanning it before reading aloud in disbelief, “‘You’re invited to the wedding of Leopold James Fitz and Jemma Anne Simmons’ – Jemma, what the actual _hell_?!”

“That’s just a sample,” she admitted, nodding to the wedding invitation that Daisy was still holding. When she continued to gape blankly at her, though, she held up her left hand, wiggling her fingers to display the sparkling engagement ring that Fitz had placed there last night. With a warm smile, Jemma explained to Daisy simply, “You see, I found a lot more than just my best friend on my trip; I found the stars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	55. 1x22 AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year as a part of 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks; Week Thirty-One, "A story set at sea".

First, all that Fitz had felt was utter betrayal. All he could picture was _Ward_ , the man they’d thought a friend, thought that they could trust, hitting that button and launching them to their deaths.

The fear hadn’t set in until his stomach had dropped out from under him and he’d realized – they were _falling into the ocean_. They had tumbled about in the pod as it made its descent, and it wasn’t until Jemma was knocked unconscious during a rather nasty drop against the far wall that he’d rushed into action, fumbling about to get her strapped in.

Strapping himself in had been a touch harder though, given that moments after securing Jemma, he’d found himself falling onto the hard floor of the pod, his arm crunching beneath him as he landed on it at an awkward angle. Still, he’d managed to strap himself in as well with his one good hand – just as the pod finally made impact on the ocean’s surface and immediately burst apart.

Fitz came up gasping for air, struggling to get himself free of the restraints that were no longer a safety measure so much as a hindrance as he desperately searched for Jemma. He’d freed himself in record time, given his injury, and paddled one-handedly through the debris, shoving away medical bits and pieces and scraps of metal until he found her, still unconscious but – _thank god_ – not drowning.

Using only the frenzied kicking of his legs to keep him afloat, Fitz unstrapped Jemma as well, awkwardly sliding her half onto one of the larger metal scraps as he held onto it for extra insurance. His gaze swept over the ruin around them, looking for something – _anything_ – that would ensure their admittedly bleak-looking survival.

Luckily, he caught sight of an AED bobbing in the water not far away, and with some rather spectacular maneuvering (if he did say so himself), he managed to keep a hold of the makeshift life raft, keep an eye on Jemma, and rig the AED to let out a homing beacon on an old SHIELD frequency.

It wasn’t until he’d finished that he realized it. _No one was going to find them, because no one was going to be listening to the frequency._

They were going to die out there, in the middle of the damn ocean. All because of _Ward_.

In a fit of blinding anger and frustration, Fitz heaved the AED back into the water, throwing it as far away from them as he could (which admittedly, wasn’t much, given his broken arm and the grip he had to keep a hold of on their meager life raft).

It made a satisfying _splash_ , disappearing for a moment before popping back up to float on the surface, still flashing with the distress call that would never be heard.

Fitz wasn’t quite able to keep track of time, but it _seemed_ like it had to be hours that he spent holding onto that piece of metal tightly, his gaze locked on Jemma to make sure that she was still there, still breathing, still _alive_. Finally, though, her breathing changed and her eyelids began to flutter.

He froze involuntarily as Jemma blinked her eyes open, her clouded gaze landing on him and her lips curling downward in confusion. “Fitz?” she mumbled, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. She let out a little cry of shock, however, when her shifting caused her to slide right off the metal scrap.

Panic filled his entire body as Jemma disappeared back into the unforgiving depths of the sea, but then a moment later she burst back to the surface, gasping for breath and her hands scrambling for purchase on the makeshift raft.

“What’s going on?!” she demanded, her eyes wide and terrified. Then, before he could answer, her gaze darted around them, taking in the wreckage, and it seemed to click. Her expression became flat, and she whispered tonelessly, “The pod was destroyed upon impact, wasn’t it? We’re…we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s about the gist of it, yeah,” Fitz replied quietly, attempting a shrug, but he bit out a hiss of pain when it pulled at his injured arm.

Jemma’s eyes shot to him at the sound, and he noticed the familiar sight of her calculated doctor look as she quickly surveyed him. It didn’t take long for her to zero-in on the arm hanging limply and uselessly into the water at his side. “You’re injured.”

“Yeah, I know, thanks,” Fitz muttered dryly. When she glanced up to meet his gaze, concern in hers, he gave her a reassuring smile. “M’fine.”

Her concern was replaced with disapproval, and she frowned – the same frown he’d been on the receiving end of for the past ten years whenever he chose not to study before a big test, or slept late and therefore ended up being late for work, or when he didn’t follow proper lab procedures and rules. It had only been recently that he’d realized just how much he actually, really, truly _loved_ that stupid frown – because it was _her_ , it was Jemma, and god damn it, he loved _everything_ about her.

“No you’re not,” she snapped, cautiously swimming closer to him, making sure to keep a hand on the raft as she did so. “Let me see.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Fitz insisted, shaking his head. What was the point of fixing up his arm when they were just going to die out there? Besides, he didn’t _deserve_ her care. He’d failed her. He wasn’t sure how, but there must’ve been something else he could’ve done, something more that he just hadn’t thought of, that would’ve kept them from ever being in that dumb pod in the first place. But, he hadn’t, and because of that, she was going to die.

As impossible as it seemed, the world was going to lose Jemma’s staggering brilliance, her insatiable curiosity, her stunning beauty, her _god-awful_ need to be the best at everything, her at-times slightly strange sense of humor, her unwavering belief in science and all its capabilities…that…that unbelievable, awe-inspiring, fantastic _light_ that she had always exuded that had taken him far too long to notice – and all because he wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t even a good SHIELD agent – unable to even protect himself, let alone the most important person in the world.

“ _Fitz_ , come on,” Jemma insisted, making a grab for his arm (though her touch was still remarkably gentle, because well, that was Jemma) that he skillfully dodged. She gritted her teeth in anger, but it seemed to go out of her in an instant, and her expression collapsed into sadness and fear. Her eyes rose to meet his, and he winced a bit at the pleading in them, because he’d never been able to deny Jemma Simmons a damn thing – and that was even _before_ he’d fallen for her (well…at least before he’d _realized_ just how deeply he loved her. He still wasn’t sure when it had actually _happened_ ).

With a heavy sigh, he stopped fighting her and allowed her to carefully lift his aching arm from the water. She let out a hiss of sympathy after she’d rolled up his sleeve and gotten a look at the damage. “What’s the prognosis?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and humorous when their situation was anything but.

“You’ve broken it in two places,” Jemma informed him plainly, her mouth curving down into another familiar frown – she was trying to work out a solution to a potentially impossible problem. “I can set it for you, but then you’ll need some kind of sling.” Squinting her eyes against the sunlight, she glanced around at the remaining debris from the crash, but clearly didn’t find anything of use when her frown only deepened.

“It’s fine like it is,” Fitz rushed to assure her, “You don’t have to do anything, Jemma.”

Jemma shot a rather terrifying glare at him. “It’s going to be quite a bit harder to swim with that arm trailing behind you as a deadweight, and you’re already an awful swimmer as it is.” He rolled his eyes at that, huffing at her constant reminders of her skills as a swimmer that only _slightly_ trumped his own. “It’ll be much easier with it strapped to your chest.”

“And where exactly are we swimming to?” Fitz asked with an arched eyebrow.

She opened her mouth to answer immediately, but no words came, and she hesitated before shooting a desperate look all around them. When she saw the same thing that he’d noticed some time ago – that there was nothing but water for hundreds of miles around them – her wide eyes began to fill with tears. “We…we’re going to die out here,” she breathed, her words just barely loud enough to be heard.

He wanted to say something that would make her feel better, but there was nothing that wasn’t horribly false, so instead he simply replied in an undertone, “Yeah, seems that way.”

Jemma’s bottom lip trembled slightly, but then she pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, allowing her professional mask to fall back down to cover her expression. “Well, I’m still not going to let you continue on injured like this.”

Fitz’s lips quirked up into a tiny grin at her stubbornness, shaking his head lightly. “What difference does it make, Jemma? I’m gonna die either way.”

Her mask slipped a bit, and he saw the terror seizing her. “Don’t. Fitz, please.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Jemma.” For a moment, the slightly unhinged thought passed through his mind that if she asked him, then and there, what had been wrong with him lately, why he’d been acting strangely, he’d let it all spill out, every single bit of it, in the way he’d been too afraid to on that quinjet when she’d asked him about Trip.

“You never have,” she replied softly, giving him that warm, secretive smile that she’d always seemed to reserve just for him, even though he’d never quite figured out what he’d done to have one of Jemma Simmons’s beautiful smiles all to himself.

Swallowing thickly as her words struck a chord with his thoughts about her inquiries into his dislike of Trip, he opened his mouth to set her straight, to apologize for the one time he’d lied to her and just be brave and _honest_ , like she deserved.

However, she spoke first, murmuring in a shaky voice, “I’m scared, Fitz.”

His good hand fumbled around on the metal raft helping them stay afloat, finally finding hers and wrapping her cold, wet fingers up in his mostly dry ones. “Me too.”

She managed a grateful smile at his sincerity, but it was gone just as quickly as it’d appeared, and she grew contemplative. She was quiet for a long moment, then abruptly she broke the silence to say, “The first law of thermodynamics.”

Brow furrowing in confusion, Fitz started to ask for clarification, “That no energy in the universe is created –”

“ – and none is destroyed, yes,” Jemma cut in to finish, nodding in reply to his unfinished question. “I think that must be what it’s like. After death, I mean. The energy inside of us, every bit of it, all of which came from someplace else possibly millions of years ago…it’ll all go on to be a part of something else. Perhaps something beautiful.” She’d been gazing absently out over the expansive ocean as she’d spoken, but then she turned to meet his eyes, and that smile just for him was back, playing around her lips. “And I have no doubt that whatever our energy goes on to create, we’ll be together Fitz.”

That new and strange and wonderful and awful and perfect love for Jemma surged up inside of him then, seizing his lungs and making it hard to breathe, causing his blood to thunder through his veins and his heart to beat out a pounding rhythm in his chest, and he knew. If there was ever a moment to be completely and utterly raw and open and honest with her, it was now. After all, it wasn’t like he’d get another chance once they were dead. “Jemma?”

“Yes Fitz?” she asked softly, matching his low tone even as her brow furrowed in concern, most likely in response to the trembling quality he’d been unable to erase from his voice.

“I…I…” It should’ve been easy – he was going to _die_ for Christ’s sake, rejection couldn’t be that bad in comparison! But, regardless, the words got stuck in his throat, and seemed unable to make it past his suddenly thick tongue.

“Fitz?” Jemma asked gently, her concern obvious in her voice. When he silently shook his head, begging her to understand something he knew she’d never be able to guess, her thumb began to lightly stroke the back of his hand, still held within hers, and she whispered, “Whatever it is, you can tell me, Fitz. You’re my best friend in the world, you know.”

“Yeah, and you’re more than that, Jemma.” The words came out in a rush, seeming to have a mind of their own, and he winced at the abrupt delivery he’d been trying to _avoid_. But, regardless, the words were out there for her to respond to in whatever way she chose to. Jemma’s eyes grew wide immediately, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. Suddenly, Fitz decided that _maybe_ that wasn’t enough and hastened to explain, “I couldn’t find the words to tell you, but…but it’s how I feel and I’ve tried not to but it’s…I think I’m incapable of not…” Shaking his head at his own ridiculous inability to say anything that even remotely made sense, he finished shortly, “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know before we…y’know.”

She continued to gape at him, which was making him more than a little uncomfortable and self-conscious, but her hand was still tightly clutching his, so he wasn’t quite sure what she was thinking. Finally, after a long moment, she choked out a whisper of, “ _Fitz_ …” and he was disconcerted to find tears once more gathering in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said miserably, shutting his eyes and dropping his head back as he let out a groan at his own stupidity. He couldn’t have just let things continue to go unsaid? He just _had_ to be honest and make everything awkward and uncomfortable.

“Fitz, please. Look at me,” she murmured as he felt the dripping fingers of her free hand grazing the skin of cheek. Obligingly, he lowered his head and opened his eyes, finding her staring at him in wonder, studying him as though she’d never seen him before. “How…how long have you felt this way?”

Fitz gave a small shrug. “Dunno. Just…figured things out after you nearly…” He clenched his jaw tightly shut as he saw it all again in his mind’s eye, Jemma falling to her death as he stood by, allowing someone else to go and save her because he wasn’t some muscled Ops agent.

“Oh.” The word was soft, but filled with understanding. She blinked, then the pieces appeared to finally fit together and she asked in a dawning understanding, “That’s why you disliked Agent Triplett, because I was spending time with him?”

He gave her a weak, apologetic smile, paired with another shrug. “Yeah. Never knew myself to be the jealous type, but…yeah. Sorry. I never meant to take it out on you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I wish you’d told me,” Jemma admitted, giving his hand a small squeeze. “I’ve been so _confused_ by your behavior the past few weeks. It all makes sense now.”

“Can you see why I _didn’t_?” Fitz asked dryly, arching an eyebrow. “It doesn’t exactly paint me in a great light, pining after my best friend and throwing dirty looks at other guys ‘cause they’ve realized the same thing as I have. Only difference is that they actually have a chance.” He let out a chuckle at his little joke, but Jemma almost seemed to grow…angry and his chuckle slowly faded into silence.

“Do you seriously think…” She trailed off, shaking her head in clear frustration. “ _Fitz_ , don’t sell yourself short. You’re a wonderful man – the best I’ve ever known. You’re my absolute favorite person, and I can’t _imagine_ my life without you.”

“’Cause I’m your best friend in the world, I know,” Fitz assured her with a smile, giving her hand a little nudge. “You don’t have to say all this stuff, I already knew it wasn’t gonna work, Jemma.”

Jemma’s expression became almost _thunderstruck_ as she glared fiercely up at him, and Fitz knew that if they hadn’t been bobbing in the water, she would’ve crossed her arms and planted her feet by now. “Now who told you that you could make my decisions for me, Leopold Fitz?”

Thrown by her anger at what was simply a fact, Fitz leaned away from her a bit and winced. “Uh…I was just using common sense?”

Her eyes narrowed further, and for a moment she continued to simply glare up at him. Then, in a flash, she lunged, throwing her free arm around his neck and (rather violently) pressing her lips against his. His absolute shock and her swift movement upset their hold on the metal raft, and before Fitz could even process what the _hell_ was going on, water was rushing up around them and they were forced to part in order to swim back up to the surface.

Fitz’s broken arm was doing him no favors, and he flailed about wildly with his one good arm, kicking fiercely with his legs, but it wasn’t until Jemma’s hand wrapped around his collar and helped tug him upward that he broke through the water, gasping for air. He scrambled for their little raft, leaning as heavily on it as he dared as he panted out, “What the _hell_?”

Jemma opened her mouth to give some kind of answer as to _why_ she’d felt the need to assault him (but he wasn’t angry – he could _never_ be angry that he actually, truly knew what it was like to kiss Jemma Simmons, even if it _was_ right before he died – he was just extremely confused and praying that she hadn’t done it just to prove a point or… _oh god_ …out of _pity_ ), but she was interrupted before she could begin by the nearly deafening sound of… _chopper blades_?

Both their heads whipped up to find a helicopter lowering above them, and what appeared to be… _Nick Fury_ reaching out toward them. However, it was a rescue, even if it came at the hands of their supposedly deceased boss, so they weren’t going to be picky.

As Jemma was extending her hand toward Fury’s, she caught his eye, and the look she gave him told him without her needing to say a thing that they’d be having _words_ later. Whether that was good or bad for him remained to be seen.

Then, it hit him that he’d told Jemma how he felt thinking they were going to die and now…now they _weren’t_ and she _knew_.

Above him, Jemma was just scrambling into the helicopter beside Fury, and then he was reaching back down for Fitz, and just briefly he contemplated demanding they leave him there in the ocean because if he went with them he was sure to die of embarrassment, and drowning or dying of starvation just sounded so much more pleasant.

But, then Jemma was peering back down at him, her eyes shining and the little strands of hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail were whipping around her face in the strong wind and she was beaming down at him and he would do absolutely anything for her, god damn it.

So, Fitz took Fury’s hand and allowed himself to be tugged upward into the helicopter, whatever was in his future be damned, because no matter what it was, at least Jemma would be there beside him – nothing would ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	56. Evelyn + Younger Sibling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "I was wondering if you could write something about Fitzsimmons and Evelyn with a little brother or sister". 
> 
> *Set not long after Ch 19, but can also be read alone

“Now, do you see this picture, sweetheart?” Jemma pushed the very first sonogram she’d ever had done, right after she’d found out about being pregnant with Evelyn, down the length of their coffee table to where Evelyn was perched on the couch beside her.

Evelyn leaned forward, studying the picture in contemplative silence, before she looked curiously up at her mother for an explanation. “What?” she asked, pointing to the picture with one little finger. ‘What’ was Evelyn’s favorite word to use, and one that she tended to use liberally – she was always pointing to every little thing, prompting either one of her parents to explain it to her until she was satisfied.

“This is a picture of inside Mummy’s belly,” she explained, tapping the black and white photo. “And do you see this little circle here?” She traced a fingertip around the little dot of light in the middle of the sonogram. When Evelyn squinted at it, then nodded, she went on, “That was you, Evelyn. This is a picture of when you were growing in Mummy’s belly.”

Her eyes wide with surprised curiosity at the new information, Evelyn leaned in further to study the picture once more. From the way she was frowning and narrowing her eyes, it was clear that she didn’t quite understand the concept of being that little dot of light inside Jemma’s stomach.

“And if that was what you looked like in Mummy’s belly,” Fitz started from Evelyn’s other side on the couch, laying an almost identical photo down on the coffee table beside it, “What d’you think this is, Evie?”

Evelyn’s frown deepened, her little brow furrowing as she glanced back and forth between the two sonograms, lying side-by-side. After a long, silent moment, she sat back and gazed up at her father, obviously expecting an explanation for what she couldn’t determine herself.

“This is what Mummy’s belly looks like now,” Fitz explained, tapping the newer picture, “with the new baby that’s growing inside of her, right at this moment. And that means that you’re going to be having a baby brother or sister sometime next year.”

Evelyn’s eyes darted back and forth between Jemma and Fitz’s patient expressions and the black and white photo lying on the table in front of her. She squinted slightly once more, as though she was considering the news they’d just delivered to her, then said abruptly, “Kay,” before climbing down from the couch and wandering over to a play on the floor with her toys.

“Well then.” Jemma picked up the sonogram photo and turned to Fitz, arching an eyebrow. “It seems that we’ve gotten her seal of approval to have another baby.”

“How relieving,” Fitz teased, chuckling as he took the picture from Jemma and smiled softly as he gazed down at it. “I mean, given that the baby’s already _there_ and there’s no return policy on babies, after all.”

Giving a little roll of her eyes, she reminded him, “She is only just about two now – really, this is the reaction that I’d expected. I imagine that she’ll understand it more when I begin showing, but we just need to talk to her about it more, explain what’s going on in my stomach and what it’s like to have a baby around, and she’ll hopefully respond better to it.”

“Yeah, and just think of how excited she’ll be when her new little brother or sister is old enough to start playing with her; she’ll be over the _moon_ , then,” he added with a grin, nodding to where Evelyn was currently playing by herself with a set of building blocks.

“And then you won’t have to attend her tea parties anymore,” Jemma pointed out with an amused little smirk, crossing her arms over her chest as she called to mind the hilarious image of her best friend in a feather boa, drinking imaginary tea with their daughter and her stuffed animals.

Fitz shot her a mock-incredulous look. “Um _excuse you_ but I love Evie’s tea parties; she’s a fantastic hostess, I’ll have you know.”

Sighing fondly, Jemma only shook her head at Fitz, patting him on the arm as she rose from the couch to go join Evelyn. “Let’s just mention it as often as we can, alright? Try to normalize the idea for her?”

“You’ve got it,” he agreed with a nod.

-

And, for the next couple of months, that was exactly what they did, trying to talk to Evelyn as often as possible about the baby growing in Jemma’s stomach, reading her children’s books about being a big sister and showing her pictures from when _she_ was a baby. She seemed to understand it more and more, and even began to respond to their excitement on the subject by growing excited about it herself.

By the time her second birthday rolled around, she was quite aware of the situation, and seemed to be happy with the idea of having a baby brother or sister sometime in the future. In fact, she seemed quite upset to find that said little brother or sister wouldn’t be able to attend her birthday party.

“The baby will be able to come to your party next year,” Fitz promised a pouting Evelyn, “they wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. But, they’re just too tiny right now, and need to stay in Mummy’s tummy for longer.”

“And besides, you’ll forget all about who _isn’t_ here once Aunt Daisy arrives,” Jemma reminded Evelyn warmly. She, of course, absolutely adored her godmother, and was always adorably excited every time Daisy paid a visit to their Perthshire cottage.

At the mention of Daisy, Evelyn predictably lit up, and Jemma shared a relieved smile with Fitz, rolling her eyes fondly when he mimed wiping sweat from his brow.

It wasn’t long before their cozy little home was filled with their friends and family, with Evelyn as the center of attention, of course. She babbled happily to her captive audience, using all of the words in her small vocabulary, and as Jemma prepared her birthday cake, she watched with a wide, proud smile.

An off-key round of the birthday song went up among their guests as Jemma carefully carried the cake into the dining room, sitting it in front of an eagerly squirming Evelyn. Once the song had finished, Jemma told her warmly, “Blow out your candles, Evie, like this.”

Evelyn glanced between her parents as they both encouragingly pretended to blow out the candles, gesturing for her to mimic them. However, instead of doing so, Evelyn turned to face Jemma, pointed to her midsection, and cheerfully squawked, “ _Baby_!”

A sudden hush fell over the room, all eyes seeming to turn to a stunned Jemma and Fitz. Mouth dropped open in a gape, Jemma thought wryly to herself that perhaps Evelyn hadn’t used _all_ of the words in her vocabulary earlier – she’d been apparently saving the best for last.

As she and Fitz exchanged a wide-eyed glance, he broke the tense silence to offer weakly, “Surprise?”

There was another beat of silence before everyone seemed to start talking at once, congratulating them, asking how far along she was and when she was due, inquiring as to how long they’d known and why they hadn’t said anything yet. But, the voice that rose above all of the others was Daisy’s as she loudly demanded to know, “Is _this one_ going to be named after me, then?”

-

Unfortunately for Daisy, though, it was only roughly about two weeks later that her continued efforts to get Jemma and Fitz to name their child after her came to an abrupt end. They had left Evelyn at the house with his mother that day, in order to make the trip downtown to the OBGYN for Jemma’s twenty week appointment.

Much like she had a couple of years ago, when they’d been on their way to find out Evelyn’s gender, Jemma couldn’t help but ask Fitz, “Any preferences?”

Fitz groaned as he shut the car door behind him, meeting Jemma at the back of the car and taking her hand in his as they headed across the parking lot. “I’d prefer for our baby to be healthy, and that’s it.”

“But you got your wish last time,” Jemma pointed out, biting her lip to hide her amused smile as Fitz shot an exasperated look at her.

“I would’ve been just as happy if Evie had been a boy,” he insisted. “Sure, I’d always pictured us having a daughter, but a son would be just as wonderful.” As they stepped through the glass front doors, he asked suddenly, “What do _you_ want?”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the question she really should’ve been expecting but hadn’t been. Almost immediately, the image that she’d had during her first pregnancy returned to her, of a little boy with Fitz’s beautiful smile and curly hair. “I…I don’t…I’d be happy either way, I just want them to be healthy.” It was the truth, of course; she loved Evelyn with all of her heart, and then some. Even though she’d leant more toward having a boy, she truly had found that she was happy with whatever gender their child ended up having, as long as they were okay.

“And what was it you said to me…I believe it was something along the lines of, ‘Ugh _Fitz_ , that’s a cop-out’!” Fitz waved his free hand dramatically as he imitated her, directly quoting back the words she’d spoken to him years ago.

“You know I hate it when you use that voice!” Jemma reminded Fitz in a hiss, mindful of the fact that they were in the waiting room now, and there were other people sitting nearby. “You _know_ that’s not how I sound.”

“S’exactly how you sound,” he contradicted, then he added triumphantly, “And really, I don’t even need t’hear you say it – I know you’ve probably got an idea of some kinda little Fitz in your head.” When Jemma turned to face him in startled shock, he smirked and admitted, “I saw you cooing over my baby pictures last time we were at my mum’s.”

“You were an adorable baby,” Jemma huffed, taking her hand back from Fitz to cross her arms defensively over her burgeoning baby bump. “Makes me wonder what happened.”

“Oh _really_?”

Jemma didn’t have a chance to respond to the clear, playful challenge in his voice, as they were called in then, and before long, she was lying back on the exam table with gel spread over her exposed stomach as the ultrasound tech moved the sensor over her lower abdomen.

After a moment, the fuzzy image on the screen settled, and the kind, older woman performing the ultrasound gave a little laugh as she pointed to it, “Do you see this here?”

Brow only furrowing for a moment, Jemma quickly identified what it was the woman was referring to, and she gave a watery chuckle even as she gasped out, “A _boy_.” Blinking back the pleasantly surprised, happy tears, she turned to meet Fitz’s gaze, and found him staring at the screen in clear surprise.

After a moment, he sniffled and dropped his eyes to find hers, and he said simply, “There’s no way that we’re naming him Leopold Junior.”

Laughing lightly, she squeezed her fingers gently around his and brought their joined hands up so that she could kiss the back of his as she promised, “I wasn’t even thinking of it.”

-

Some months later, when Jemma’s stomach had almost doubled in size (she was, predictably, popping much more this time around), she was cramped up beside Evelyn in her little toddler bed one night, telling her a bedtime story, much like she and Fitz took turns doing every night. The story she was telling that night, however, was one that Evelyn now requested more often than not – the long, complicated journey of how her parents got together.

Obviously, it was cleaned up and made to sound more like a fairy tale than it actually had been (it’d been nothing close to a fairy tale, truthfully – the only commonality they had was how truly unbelievable they both were), and when Jemma told the story, Fitz was always its hero (when Fitz told the story, though, it was always _Jemma_ who was the hero).

In a hushed voice, she was telling a captive Evelyn, “And then, the hero could wait no longer, and he dove straight through the hole in the universe for his love, fighting through a sandstorm to take her hand in his and bring her back to Earth with him.”

Evelyn’s eyes were wide with wonder as she gazed up at her mother, enraptured by the story where she was resting her head against Jemma’s rounded stomach. “Then?” she asked in a whisper.

Tonight, they got all the way through until their triumphant defeat of Hive until Evelyn’s eyes were closed more often than they were open, and Jemma promised softly that the story would be finished tomorrow as she kissed Evelyn goodnight before carefully leveraging herself to her feet. Turning out the lights (leaving Evelyn’s nightlight to break up the darkness) and shutting the door behind her, Jemma then went down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Fitz.

Fitz was lying on their bed, back up against the headboard as he scrolled through what Jemma had no doubt was some new science article he’d be dying to discuss with her once he was finished with it. However, at her entrance, he glanced up with a smile and locked his tablet, setting it aside. “Evie enjoy her bedtime story?”

“Mm,” she hummed affirmatively. “You’re going to have to pick up after Hive tomorrow.”

“Ah, so you mean the weeks that we spent locked up in either one of our bunks, doing some serious practicing for Evie’s conception?” he asked playfully with an exaggerated wink and a waggle of his eyebrows.

“If you want to give her nightmares, then sure, go right ahead.” Jemma perched on the bed beside Fitz, scooting back to rest up against the pillows. “You know, it did give me something of an idea for…a name, though.” She placed a hand over her stomach, rubbing absently as she felt their little boy shifting around inside of her. They’d been struggling to think of the perfect name to give him since they’d found out they were having a boy this time around, suggesting and promptly rejecting almost an entire list of them, but time was quickly running out.

Arching a curious brow, Fitz turned onto his side to face her fully and admitted, “Well, you _did_ do a great job picking Evelyn, so I’m all ears.”

Taking a breath, Jemma then offered, “Finlay.”

Before she even had a _chance_ to explain the reasoning behind her choice, Fitz made a face and asked, “Are you _really_ suggesting that we give our son a Scottish name?”

Rolling her eyes and huffing in exasperation, she told him pointedly, “I _like_ the name, I’ll have you know, no matter where it’s from. And, it means ‘fair-haired hero’.” When he continued to stare blankly at her, as though he was waiting for more of an explanation, she clarified, “Fitz, you’re _my_ hero, and…well, I can only imagine what our son is going to turn out like with such a wonderful father to look up to – I mean, just look at Evelyn already.” With a little smile, she finished, “Plus, you have to admit that ‘Finlay Fitzsimmons’ does have a nice ring to it.”

Shifting a bit against the pillows, Fitz reminded her for the thousandth time in a low voice, “I’m not a hero, Jemma. I was just…doing what I had to.”

“And that’s what _makes_ you a hero,” she insisted softly, reaching out to curve her hand lovingly along his cheek.

He hesitated for only a moment longer, then caved with a small smile. “Alright, your name choices haven’t steered us wrong yet, so…Finlay is it.”

-

Another handful of months came and went, before little Finlay was ready to come into the world, surprising his parents with a labor that came a week early. But, thankfully, Fitz’s mother wasn’t too far away, and made it in time to watch a very concerned and confused Evelyn as Jemma and Fitz headed for the hospital.

Much to Jemma’s relief, her labor went _much_ more easily the second time around, and it wasn’t even long at all (and not nearly as much effort) before she was holding her beautiful baby boy in her arms – one who reminded her so much of his father that it made her heart nearly ache with the sheer force of her love (though the shape of his eyes and slope of his nose were all Jemma, perhaps even the curve of his chin).

Beside her, Fitz stood, gently rubbing his thumb over the tuft of curly hair on top of their son’s head. “Alright,” he murmured amusedly, “he _is_ fair-haired, but that doesn’t prove anything.” Jemma simply rolled her eyes up at him, and as he stroked a finger down Finlay’s cheek, he added, “Y’know, this proves that Evelyn wasn’t just a fluke.”

Frowning at him, Jemma asked bemusedly, “What are you talking about?”

“Evelyn’s obviously the cutest baby in the world, right?” he explained plainly. “And now, there’s Finlay, who clearly ties with her for cutest baby, so…it means that we’re just as fantastic at making babies together as we are with anything else we’ve created, yeah?”

Scoffing, she shot back quietly, “As if there was any doubt.”

Breaking the careful stillness of their little hospital room, a soft knock issued from the door before Fitz’s mother stuck her head in to announce, “There’s someone here to meet her little brother.”

Chuckling, Fitz called, “Come on in, Mum.”

The door opened more fully, and his mother entered the room then, leading in an excitedly squirming Evelyn. As she immediately went to her mother’s side and (with her father’s help) climbed up onto the bed beside Jemma, his mother told them, “I’ll give you all a moment,” before she disappeared back out into the hall.

Evelyn scooted closer to Jemma, peering down into the blankets in her arms, where Finlay was sleeping peacefully. Curiously, she reached out to touch the tiny hand lying on top of the blankets, and Jemma gently cautioned, “Be careful, Evelyn.” Glancing up briefly at her mother, she then lightly touched his hand, his cheek, then his forehead before looking back up at Jemma, clearly searching for an explanation. “Evelyn, this is Finlay, he’s your little brother.”

Evelyn squinted slightly, her brow furrowing as she looked back down at Finlay. After a moment, she opened her mouth, and simply said, “Finn.”

Fitz didn’t quite manage to stifle his chortle at that as he told Jemma, “Well, the name was nice while it lasted, honey.”

Jemma gave a little huff and a roll of her eyes, but she wasn’t truly upset at all, and it wasn’t very long before her smile slipped through. It only began to grow wider then as Evelyn suddenly leaned forward to place the softest little kiss on her brother’s forehead, tears springing up in her eyes at the sight.

Years ago, she never would’ve imagined this life for herself, never would’ve imagined being a mother to one child, let alone _two_ – but, her heart was so full of overwhelming love for her children, more than she ever thought one person could contain within their body, and now she couldn’t imagine her life being any different.

Glancing up at Fitz and meeting his eyes, Jemma knew that she had him to thank for this life, for these beautiful, incredible, perfect children, and also knew without a doubt that she wouldn’t want to be there with anyone else. Blinking back her tears, she carefully shifted Finlay to one arm so that she could reach out for Fitz, who immediately found her hand with his.

“I love you,” she whispered with as much emotion as she could manage to infuse into the three words, the nearly two decades’ worth of love she had inside of her for him spilling over into them. She loved this man _so much_ , there truly weren’t adequate words to describe how thankful she was to have him, to _still_ have him after everything that had tried to tear them apart, to have created such a beautiful family with him after all of the pain and suffering they’d endured.

He squeezed her hand gently, gazing at her with pure love and gratitude clear in his eyes, and she knew that the depth of love inside of her for him was only matched by the love he held in his wonderful heart for her. “I love you too,” he murmured.

And, as they were gazing at each other and sharing ridiculously happy grins, Evelyn suddenly piped up to say, “Love you too!” and caused them both to break into quiet laughter, ever conscious of Finlay still asleep in Jemma’s arms.

“Of course we love you and Finlay too, Evelyn,” Jemma assured her, and she had never felt more complete than she was in that moment, with her two babies and the love of her life, her _family_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	57. Future Fic + Near-Death Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year as a part of 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks; Week Forty-Five, "A story about a near-death experience". 
> 
> *Set sometime in the future
> 
> **Briefly contains canon-typical violence

“ _Shit_!”

Stumbling back from the force of the punch landed squarely on his jaw, Fitz barely had a moment to prepare before he received another punch – that one, though, to his gut. He doubled over in pain, grunting as he fell to his knees. Wildly, he wondered where the hell the rest of his team was with the backup he’d been promised.

After all, Fitz’s part in the plan had just been data retrieval, not getting his ass handed to him by some freakishly strong goons.

Still, he had to keep them busy while the scan was running on the servers, so he spat out a mouthful of blood and smirked up at his attacker. “That all you got, then? Barely tickles.”

The man and his friend both gave Neanderthal-esque growls as they advanced on him once more, and his vision briefly whited out in blinding pain when his request for more got him a knee to the chin, cracking his skull back against the concrete wall behind him. Absurdly, the first thing he found himself thinking (after the pain ebbed enough to allow for thought, that was) was that Jemma was going to be _beyond_ pissed if he ended up with another head injury when she was always telling him to ‘be careful’ and that he ‘still had a brain injury no matter how much it had healed’.

Then, he heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking and suddenly found himself staring down the barrel, and as he gulped nervously, he thought to himself that Jemma might just have a few other things to be pissed about.

In the space of a moment, goon number two squeezed the trigger of his gun and Fitz clenched his eyes shut at the same moment that he heard something explode not too far away from where he knelt on the floor. When he realized that his head _hadn’t_ been blown off, he cautiously opened his eyes, and sighed in relief when he saw Daisy, hand out and a smug smirk on her face. The two goons were unconscious and crumpled on the ground nearby.

“Cutting it a bit close, yeah?” Fitz grumbled good-naturedly, shakily getting to his feet. He felt a flash of pain in his chest, and groaned internally as he realized he’d probably broken a rib – Jemma was gonna _kill_ him.

Daisy’s smirk disappeared as she turned to him, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Fitz, what the _hell_ were you doing? Were you really just going to let that guy shoot you?!”

Gaping at her in shock, Fitz spread his arms and shook his head. “I’m sorry, did it _look_ as though I was dictating the terms of that fight? ‘Oh yeah, I could totally kick both your sorry arses, but for fun lemme just get on the ground and you can put a bullet in my skull’!”

Daisy gave a fierce roll of her eyes, snapping under her breath, “You’re so dramatic.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Jemma,” Fitz shot back, given that it _was_ his girlfriend that was always muttering about how dramatic she found him. Crossing the room and trying to ignore the pain in his body, he snatched the now fully downloaded drive from the mainframe, pocketing it before turning back to Daisy. “After you,” he said, gesturing widely to the door.

Only after Daisy had turned to leave the room first did Fitz allow his pained wince at the simple movement to show on his face.

Yep, even though the bullet hadn’t hit home, he was still _so_ dead.

-

Jemma had been doing quite well keeping herself distracted all day, since Fitz had been called away on a mission early that morning, and she was proud of herself for doing so. However, then she’d returned to their off-base apartment after finishing up in the lab for the day, and it hadn’t been as easy to keep distracted. She’d reorganized their bookshelf (it was now organized by genre, then name of author rather than simply by title – how archaic _that_ had been), she’d cleaned the kitchen from their quick breakfast, she’d done laundry, including their sheets which meant she then had to make the bed, and finally, she’d ended up cleaning the already spotless windows.

She was just finishing up the last one when she heard a key in the lock, and she dropped her cleaning rag as she spun to face the front door as it swung open.

“Jemma,” Fitz sighed as soon as he caught sight of her, and Jemma immediately noticed the beginnings of a nasty bruise along his left cheek. He closed the door behind him and started moving toward her, but paused with a sudden frown, glancing around. “Uh…isn’t it kinda early for nesting?”

Scowling, Jemma placed her hands on her hips, but the affect was lost a bit in the little bulging baby bump she was so absurdly proud of. “I’ve only been doing everything I can to keep myself from going mad with worry! And don’t you try to distract me with jokes – you’re hurt.”

Without another word, she strode across the remaining space to stand in front of him, cupping his face in her hands. Even though her touch was extremely gentle, he still gave a small wince, and it caused concern to flare up inside of her. It had to have been _awful_ if even such a light touch could cause him pain.

“What happened?” she demanded, “Are you hurt anywhere else? And don’t you dream of lying to me Leopold Fitz, because I _will_ find them, even if I have to strip you naked right here and check for myself.”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose, a teasing little grin crossing his lips. “Is that a threat or a promise?” When he received only a frosty glare in response, he cleared his throat nervously, then nodded. “Just business then. Look, I had to distract these two goons while I was waiting for the server to download, so I let them beat me up a bit. No big deal, all I need is a little rest and a lot of you.” He reached up to capture her hands in his, pulling them away from his face and squeezing them gently.

Jemma felt her anger begin to ebb at his sweet words, her expression starting to soften, the beginnings of a smile forming around the corners of her lips. However, then he stretched his arms out toward her, moving to embrace her, and she saw his features twist in pain. He let out a sharp hiss, his hand flying up to press against the sore area, and Jemma’s eyes narrowed into tight slits. Not even bothering to ask first, her hands flew over the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with practiced ease, and then she parted the fabric to reveal the bandage wrapped around his chest and the mottled bruise it didn’t quite cover.

She sucked in a sharp gasp, her hands fluttering over the bandage. She desperately wanted to do something to make it better, to soothe his pain, but she didn’t want to touch him in case she agitated his injury. “What _happened_?”

“Jem, please, it’s not that bad,” he assured her, carefully reaching up to place a hand on her shoulder and stroking her arm soothingly with his thumb. “Really, it could’ve been _a lot_ worse if Daisy hadn’t shown up and saved my sorry arse.”

“And what does _that_ mean?” Jemma demanded, her gaze sharply rising to meet his. She saw him wince slightly, and he’d clearly meant for her to focus on the fact that he’d gotten off easy, rather than the fact that he’d been in more danger than he was admitting to. Jemma wasn’t about to be played for a fool, however – she was pregnant, not _dumb_ , and she knew all of Fitz’s tricks by now.

“Well…uh…” Fitz frowned, twisting his lips into a grimace. “I may have uh…almost gotten shot?” When Jemma’s eyes grew wide in horror, he hastened to add, “But like I said, Daisy showed up and quaked ‘em before the bullet could ever reach me, so my brains are safe.” Smiling reassuringly, he reached up to tap his skull.

Jemma was _not_ reassured. “You almost _died_ ,” she gasped out, feeling tears begin to burn her eyes as she stepped back and turned away from him. Her breaths were coming a bit faster, her hands shaking as she imagined that tonight could have gone completely different. She could’ve been receiving news of the mission from someone else – Coulson, perhaps Daisy, maybe even Mack or May – could’ve been told that she’d lost her best friend in the world, told that she’d be raising their baby without a father.

“Hey, Jemma, stop, it’s alright,” Fitz murmured, closing the distance she’d put between them and gently wrapping her up in his arms. “I’m okay, see?”

Jemma shook her head, even as she buried herself in his embrace and greedily breathed in the achingly familiar scent of _Fitz_. “I can’t take this anymore Fitz. Every time I almost lose you, I’m terrified that there won’t _be_ any more almosts, that we’ve already had too many second chances. Someday that luck will run out and Daisy or someone else won’t be there to save you in the nick of time and…” She trailed off when she grew too choked up at the mere thought, giving another shake of her head.

“Jemma…” Fitz’s voice was soft, but strained under the wealth of emotion he seemed to be struggling with as well, and she felt his arms tighten around her. “Jemma, you know I’ll always come back to you.”

“It’s not always up to you,” she reminded him quietly, allowing her eyes to fall closed as she pressed her cheek to his chest, heard his heartbeat pounding beneath her ear, wonderfully and perfectly still alive.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” he promised her gently, and she felt his hands lovingly rubbing her back, fingertips tracing the length of her spine through her shirt. “Believe me, I have _far_ too much to live for.” With that, one of his hands shifted from her back to slide around to her front, pressing his palm against her stomach.

For a long moment, Jemma remained quiet as Fitz stroked her rounded stomach and dropped kisses on the top of her head. Then, she pulled away slightly, just enough to catch his eye. “Fitz,” she whispered, “we can’t keep living like this. This…this is no way to raise a family.”

Fitz let out a quiet sigh, but she could tell by his expression that her words didn’t come as a surprise to him and he’d likely been thinking along the same lines. Her pregnancy had been a surprise, to say the least, and they were still adjusting to the idea and the changes it made and would make to their lives, but they were more than ready to accept their baby into their life together. However, it was becoming more and more clear that there were still changes that needed to be made to accommodate the surprise addition to their family.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “Yeah, I know.”

“What should we do?”

Fitz gave another sigh, carefully lifting his arm to wrap around her shoulder, tugging her back into the circle of his arms. Her head fell naturally into the space between his neck and shoulder (which she very much had always thought of as _her_ spot, and had done so even more since they’d realized their more romantic feelings toward each other), and she felt him rest his head on top of hers. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and she felt him give the slightest of shrugs. “But we’ll figure it out, together. And as long as we are together, as long as we have our family, then I know everything’s gonna be fine.”

For the first time since she’d heard of his most recent brush with death, Jemma felt a smile curving her lips, and she let out a content sigh as her eyes slipped closed. “I love you,” she murmured.

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, Jemma just knew that he was smiling as well as he replied softly, affectionately, “I love you too, Jem.”

Fitz was right – as long as they had each other, everything would be alright. They would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	58. Pre-Season Four + Daisy's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year as a part of 52 Prompts for 52 Weeks; Week Thirty-Four, "A story about loneliness".
> 
> *Set between 3x22 and 4x01

There were so many things that Daisy missed about SHIELD, she didn’t have enough fingers on which to count them. Some days she missed the purpose the most, some days it was the way she’d felt at home for the very first time in her life. But the one thing that never faded, the one thing that never changed, was how _much_ she missed her friends – her _family_. She often dreamed of them, of training and sparring with May, of the old days when she and Coulson would hang out in the back of a SHIELD-issue SUV, of Mack’s ultra-comforting bear hugs that she could use right about then, and of the times when she used to sit in the lab and listen to Fitzsimmons bicker about scientific mumbo-jumbo.

In fact, it was her two best friends that she found herself missing the most when she woke up that morning, curled up on the pile of blankets that made up her mattress in the back of her new (but also very, _very_ old) van. They’d been the last thing she remembered dreaming about before she’d awoken, and it left a small smile still clinging to her lips as she forced her eyes open.

For a moment, her heart ached with the desire to give it all up, to go back home and rejoin her family and just try to be _happy_ again. But, then her smile abruptly disappeared as she remembered why she’d chosen self-exile, why she was so lonely to begin with.

Wherever she went, death followed.

Those were the words the SHIELD agent that had rescued her as baby had used to describe her, and the phrase had never left her. For awhile, she’d tried to convince herself that it wasn’t true, that it was all just some superstition made up by some guy that had gone crazy from being in solitude for twenty-something years, but as time wore on, she’d been forced to accept that it was horrifyingly true.

Lincoln had been the last straw. After what had happened with Mike, after Eric, after Trip, after her mom, after Charles, after Alisha, after Andrew, after _Lincoln_ , she refused to let any more people die because of her – especially her friends.

So, she’d fled in the dead of night, dusting off her old mental handbook of how to survive under the radar. She’d purchased a beat-up old van, and she’d started driving, as simple as that. At first, it had been easy, it had felt almost like it used to, and the solitude was a perfect companion to her downwardly spiraling emotions.

However, then the loneliness had started to set in, something that she’d never really felt when this had been her lifestyle before. But, _before_ was the key word, because now she’d gotten a taste of what it felt like to have a family, to be able to walk down the hall and knock on Jemma’s door for some girl talk, or to take a couple turns to get to the kitchen where there was almost always someone waiting with a cup of coffee and a sympathetic ear or just some company, or even to go down to the lab where she’d usually find Fitz working on some project or another and she could sit and enjoy his comforting presence even if they never said a word to each other.

Now, it was just her, and suddenly that didn’t seem to be enough anymore.

After she’d dressed and downed a cup of cheap, crappy coffee, she was on the road, driving mindlessly as her fingers tapped the steering wheel. Sure, she had agendas, things she should’ve been doing, places she should’ve been going, but where she found herself certainly _wasn’t_ on any of those agendas.

Even though she’d decided to flee SHIELD and stay as far away as possible, Daisy had still been keeping a close eye on them to make sure everything was alright, to make sure that they were alright. It was the sole reason why she knew that Fitz and Jemma had moved out of the Playground and had gotten an apartment not far away. It was why she even knew the address of their building (and of course she’d had to check out the place, just to make sure it was a safe enough neighborhood for her no-longer-completely-helpless nerdy friends who had proven that they could most certainly take care of themselves).

It _didn’t_ explain why she was parked across the street from said apartment, though.

For a long moment, Daisy stared blankly through the windshield up at the building, her gaze automatically drifting up to the set of windows on the third floor which she knew belonged to Fitzsimmons. She couldn’t see anything since the curtains were still drawn, but a miniscule smile tugged at her lips when she noted the potted plants sitting on their tiny balcony. More than once, Jemma had complained about first the rules against plants on the Bus for safety reasons, and then the lack of sunlight at the Playground that made it impossible for anything to grow. Daisy was happy for her that she was finally living somewhere that she could decorate how she pleased.

As she was gazing absently up at their balcony and trying to work herself up to hitting the road once more before either spotted her somehow, the curtains were suddenly drawn, and Daisy sat up ramrod straight in her seat.

The glass door leading out onto the balcony opened, and Daisy’s heart leapt into her throat as Jemma came into view, one hand curled around what had to be a cup of tea and her hair up in a messy bun. From what Daisy could tell, she was wearing a button-up shirt that was clearly too loose on her, and if she squinted, she could almost certainly identify it as one of Fitz’s old shirts, from back when he wore patterns rather than the solid colors that he seemed to prefer nowadays.

Jemma appeared to have an easy smile on her face as she sat in one of the chairs on the balcony, folding her legs up on the seat and leaning her elbow on the railing as she took a long sip of her tea. Despite that fact that Daisy was three stories below her, it was abundantly obvious that Jemma was utterly relaxed in a way that she hadn’t been since the early days on the Bus.

Simultaneously, it made Daisy so happy for one of her best friends, and she felt the first real smile in ages curving her lips as her chest filled with warmth, but it also made her terribly sad and even lonelier than she’d previously been, because she wasn’t there to experience the happiness that her friend was enjoying firsthand. She couldn’t lovingly harass her about her relationship with Fitz, about how it was going and asking “when’s the wedding” or making needless threats about how she’d kill Fitz if he ever dared to hurt Jemma (which they all knew that he wouldn’t, of course). She was forced to watch from the sidelines, an outsider, a stranger, and it tore at her heart and brought tears to her eyes.

It was then that she was reaching for the key, still in the ignition, about to start the car and just get out of there before she felt any worse, but she froze when she noticed movement up on the balcony. Fitz had just stepped through the open door, carrying his own cup of tea and yawning as he ruffled his already sleep-mussed hair. He was wearing just an undershirt and pajama pants, the most dressed-down she’d seen him in awhile.

The smile Fitz and Jemma shared then could’ve rivaled the rising sun, and only moments after he’d taken the empty chair beside her, Jemma had abandoned her own seat to curl up on his lap, looping one arm around his neck and settling in easily, as though this was something that they did often. Jemma’s head dropped to his shoulder, and the dopey grin Fitz was sporting that could’ve been seen from miles away was soon hidden in her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

It was then that Daisy really left, quickly starting her van and pulling back onto the road, leaving her blissfully happy friends behind. Seeing them hurt too much, yes, but it was also because she didn’t want to unintentionally intrude on their private life any longer. If she ever returned to SHIELD, then she certainly wouldn’t feel an ounce bad about cooing over the sight of them cuddling, but just now, when she was on the run and as good as a stranger to them…it simply didn’t feel right.

Even as she left feeling far worse than she had when she arrived, Daisy was glad that she’d gone to see them, if only for a moment. Because even with everything that had happened in the past three years, even with all the shit they’d gone through and the friends they’d lost and the awful things that had attempted to come between them and tear them apart, Fitzsimmons had done the impossible and held on tightly to one another. They’d fought for each other, fought to be together, and could finally just _enjoy_ it, could enjoy everything that they’d always more than deserved. It was all that Daisy had ever wanted for them, all that she’d hoped like hell they’d be able to get so many times over the past few years, all that she’d imagined was truly impossible more than once.

Just because everything was going wrong for Daisy and her life seemed to be nothing but a death mark to those around her, she was content with the knowledge that Fitzsimmons were alright and they were together and they were _happy_. For now, it was more than enough for her.

(And it really was, even if it made her miss Lincoln so much that it hurt to breathe and she had to pull over so that the tears blurring her eyes wouldn’t cause an accident. That was her own fault, it was all her own fault, and she’d never condemn Fitzsimmons for succeeding where she’d failed.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	59. Morning TV Show Hosts AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "If you're still open to prompts, how about Fitzsimmons as newsreader/weatherperson who constantly bicker/flirt shamelessly to the point that even viewers are shipping them". (which ended up more as morning TV show hosts, a la Good Morning America, etc)

“Here with us this morning we’ve got a young woman who recently won her town’s local marathon – _and_ broke the record for fastest time, which has stood for _fifty-two_ years,” Jemma introduced, layering the appropriate amount of shock onto her tone as she leveled a wide-eyed gaze at the camera.

“ _Wow_ ,” Fitz commented, arching his eyebrows and shaking his head in proper disbelief. “The only record _I_ can set is how long I go between doing loads of laundry.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at his little improvised remark, muttering under her breath, “Ugh _Fitz_.” But, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from adding, “It’s like I told you, if you just separate them into proper piles _ahead_ of time, it –” But, remembering that they were on live TV, she stopped herself, curving her lips into her practiced smile. “Well, anyway, here she is, Elena Rodriguez.”

Both she and Fitz clapped as Elena stepped onto the set from where she’d been waiting with May, taking the third seat they’d had waiting for her. “Thank you for having me,” she said, throwing a little smile in the direction of the camera.

“So, tell us, what was it like winning the marathon and _then_ finding out that you’d broken the record?” Jemma asked, leaning forward slightly to show her interest in Elena’s answer.

“I was very tired,” Elena replied, arching her eyebrows slightly. “I had just run a marathon.”

Fitz gave a quiet snort, lifting his hand to cover his mouth and the laughter he was clearly trying to choke back. At Jemma’s narrow-eyed glare, he hastily cleared his throat and prompted Elena, “Did you ever imagine that you’d be the one to break the record? Fifty-two years is a long time, after all, and I’m sure it was a great feeling to be the one to break it.”

Elena gave an exaggerated shrug. “I just ran – I wasn’t thinking about breaking anything.” Then, she frowned and added, “Except my leg or my ankle, or something.”

Even Jemma had to press her lips together to hold her laughter at Elena’s bewilderedly honest answers to the questions. “Have you gotten much recognition from your neighbors for setting this new record?”

She gave a great, heaving sigh and told them seriously, “It is all anyone can talk about! I run all the time, but they only want to talk about it when I have broken some silly record!”

There was a muffled guffaw from somewhere nearby, and startled, Jemma glanced up to find their cameraman, Mack, covering his mouth as his shoulders shook. When she noticed Elena looking over as well out of the corner of her eye, she worried for a moment that she’d think they were making fun of her. But, to her surprise, Elena just threw an oddly… _flirty_ smile in Mack’s direction.

“Does that mean that you plan on entering other races, then?” Fitz asked her curiously. “Maybe try some in other towns or states, try your hand at breaking other records?” However, when Elena didn’t answer and instead continued to focus instead on Mack, he released a quiet chuckle and told the camera, “Ah, well, it seems that Elena is more interested in chasing after our cameraman rather than a new record to break.”

“ _Fitz_!” Jemma gasped, shooting a subtly incredulous look at him that she hoped the camera wouldn’t pick up.

Fitz just gave another chuckle and tossed a teasing, “ _Jemma_ ,” back at her, before turning to face the camera and saying, “That’s all the time we’ve got for today. Thank you to Elena Rodriguez for the entertaining interview on her marathon win, and thanks for waking up with us, Washington.”

Even though it was slightly frazzled, Jemma gave the camera a winning smile as May counted them out, and once they camera was off, she groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “ _Fitz_ ,” she hissed, the sound slightly muffled by her palms.

“What?” She heard his chair creaking as he got up and no doubt started stretching after sitting down for almost an hour. “As if it wasn’t already obvious. ‘Sides, Daisy and Coulson are always saying that the viewers love when we’re honest.” She felt his hand as it landed gently on her shoulder, and he added lowly, “It wasn’t even that bad, Jem. I’ve said worse on live television, if you’ll remember.”

“Yes, but…” Jemma lifted her head from her hands to find Fitz standing right in front of her, a concerned furrow to his brow, and that Elena had disappeared at some point. “All those other times we weren’t in competition with another morning show.” She and Fitz had been the hosts of _Wake Up, Washington!_ for roughly three years now, after spending a fair bit of time working their way up the ranks of their local TV network after they’d successfully obtained internships there while at university.

When they’d finally gotten the jobs as hosts, it’d been understandably overwhelming, but the viewers seemed to have taken to the almost constant bickering that was such a staple of their friendship, and it had made the transition a bit easier. Jemma had to admit that she didn’t really understand _why_ that was – all of their other friends seemed more annoyed than anything when she and Fitz started arguing – but since she’d always hated to watch herself on TV, she’d never gotten the chance to truly see what the viewers saw.

Recently, however, another local network had started up their own morning show, _Good Morning, D.C._ , with its aesthetically-pleasing hosts and their rotten boss, Gideon Malick (who, of course, only bought the network in order to put his daughter Stephanie on TV). Ever since, they’d been in competition to gather more viewers than the other, though Malick seemed to have been edging them out as of late, worrying Coulson sick.

“Like anyone’s gonna stop watching our show just because I imply that one of our guests is flirting with Mack,” Fitz pointed out, giving a clearly exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Honestly,” Daisy called as she approached them from her weather set nearby, “if you’d started fighting him on it while the cameras were rolling, it would’ve been gold. For every ‘ugh Fitz’ you utter, there’s always someone new tweeting about ‘Fitzsimmons’.” As proof, she waved her phone at them, scrolling so quickly through the tweets featuring _#Fitzsimmons_ that Jemma couldn’t read what they actually said – but she got the gist of it.

“This isn’t a _reality_ _show_ , Daisy,” Jemma reminded her as she finally got up from her own chair and stepped closer to her and Fitz. “We’re a morning news show.”

“Fine, fine,” Daisy tucked her phone back into her pocket, “whatever you say.” She moved to head toward the refreshment table, which was stacked with doughnuts and other sugary breakfast foods, but she paused and called back to them, “Oh hey, before I forget, Coulson wanted to see you guys in his office.”

Startled, Jemma shared a glance with Fitz, but when he shrugged to show that he had no idea either, she simply offered him a weak smile and said, “Perhaps he wants to talk about our guests for the week?”

Fitz looked skeptical, but nodded in agreement nonetheless. “Could be, yeah.” He gestured then for her to step ahead of him as they exited the sound stage and strode down the long, narrow hall toward Coulson’s office at the end. His door had the faded words ‘Network Exec’ painted on it, and Jemma reached up to tap her fist lightly against it.

It was barely a moment before he called for them to come in, and Jemma turned the knob to lead the way inside, hearing Fitz shutting the door behind her as she took one of the two seats in front of Coulson’s desk. “You wanted to see us?” she asked, absently tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair.

“Yes, I did,” Coulson replied, pushing aside a small stack of papers that he’d been looking over before they’d entered the room. “I don’t think it’s a secret how popular you two are with the viewers.” Jemma released a silent sigh of relief, thinking to herself that the words “you’re fired” couldn’t possibly follow a compliment like that one. “May and I have been talking, and we’ve decided to take advantage of that and introduce a new segment, with hopes of bringing in the younger demographic that we’ve been missing.”

Slightly puzzled but willing to listen, Jemma exchanged a brief glance with Fitz before nodding. “Alright, what have you got in mind?”

“Well, as you’re both aware, there are plenty of colleges in the area, and how do college kids like to spend their free time?”

There was a beat, before Fitz asked unsurely, “Drinking themselves stupid?”

Coulson leveled a look at Fitz across the desk, then answered pointedly, “ _No_ ; they go out on dates. We thought it’d be a great idea to spotlight local restaurants and other businesses, ranking them on how romantic each place is for a date.” He raised his eyebrows, an excited grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “What do you two think?”

“Do you really think that will work?” Jemma asked skeptically, a small frown curling the ends of her lips. It sounded good enough in theory, but she couldn’t imagine that two TV hosts pretending to go on dates would be enough to get young adults to tune into an early-morning news show.

“I’m confident that it will,” Coulson assured her, nodding firmly.

“Well…” Jemma turned to Fitz, and found him already watching her. When their gazes locked, he offered her a slight shrug, telling her wordlessly that the final decision was up to her, so she took a breath and faced Coulson once more. “We’ll give it a try, then. It can’t hurt, I suppose.”

-

The next day, Jemma found herself sitting across from Fitz in an otherwise empty Italian restaurant, just down the street from the network’s building, with cameras set up around them. At first, neither of them was really sure what to do (they were both rather used to live television, and if they weren’t reporting on the latest news or interviewing guests, what were they supposed to say?), but after awhile, they both seemed to forget that they were even being filmed, slipping into their normal, easy friendship.

“It’s been _ages_ ,” Fitz was saying, absentmindedly chewing his breadstick as he glanced around the restaurant. “Remember how great their food used to taste at ten-thirty at night?”

Jemma laughed at the memory, nodding in agreement; it _did_ seem like it had been ages since they’d first started at the network, getting off their horrible shifts in the middle of the night and stumbling tiredly down the street to the convenient restaurant for a very late dinner. “We should really do this more often,” she told him, unable to help the fond smile pulling at her lips.

“Yeah, for sure,” Fitz agreed, grabbing for yet another breadstick from the basket on the table between them.

Eyeing the nearly empty basket, she added with an amused chuckle, “As long as you don’t eat all the breadsticks.”

Fitz groaned, giving a rather impressive roll of his eyes as he said defensively, “I don’t eat _all_ the breadsticks – you just take forever to eat _one_ , so by the time you’ve finished, I’ve gone through the whole basket!”

“That is honestly the most ridiculous hyperbole…” Jemma shook her head in exasperation. “I simply eat like the average human being; you know, one that hasn’t been starving in a desert for the past week!”

“So I have a healthy appetite – what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with…” Giving another shake of her head, she threw up her hands and insisted, “Someday you’re going to eat yourself out of house and home, Fitz!”

“Now who’s throwing around hyperboles?” Fitz muttered, but the smile he gave her soon after showed that he wasn’t taking their normal arguing personal in the least.

Their “dinner” (it was actually closer to lunch, to tell the truth) went much in the same  vein, with periodic bickering and reminiscing, given that it had been so long since they’d been able to just sit down and _talk_. It wasn’t until the end of the meal that Jemma remembered that there was a _reason_ for it, and she quickly cleared her throat as she turned to face the camera so that they could finish up their first “date” with a romance ranking.

“If Fitz and I were a couple on a real date,” she started, shooting a surreptitious glance in Fitz’s direction to make sure he was also facing the camera, “I’d certainly appreciate the romantic atmosphere here, as well as the wide selection offered on the menu.”

“Yeah, and if you eat ‘em quick enough, there are more than enough breadsticks,” Fitz added, the smug smirk obvious in his voice.

Taking a brief moment to scowl at Fitz, Jemma then went on, “I’d give it a rating of six on the romance scale.”

“Sounds about right,” he agreed, thankfully not turning _this_ into a debate as well.

-

Much to Jemma’s excitement, the following day found them at the local bowling alley, which had been cleared out for their taping, and after they’d changed their shoes and got their lane set up, she pointed out to Fitz, “It’s been even longer since we bowled together, you know; at least since we were in our final year at university.”

“Oh, I remember,” Fitz assured her, hefting one of the bowling balls and inspecting it carefully. “Dunno who’s idea this was, but they obviously didn’t know how scarily competitive you get when it comes to bowling.” Lowering the ball, he turned to her with a sudden smirk. “I seem to remember, though, that there was never a clear winner of our unofficial tournament.”

“That was only because you refused to admit that I’d won!” Jemma snapped back, picking up her own ball and stepping closer to the lane so as to roll it at the waiting pins.

With a huff, Fitz replied for the hundredth time, “That’s because you _didn’t_.”

As Jemma’s ball rolled speedily down the waxed floor, it hit the pins in a thunderous collision, taking all ten down with it. With a triumphant grin, she whirled back to Fitz and let her strike speak for her, sauntering over to put in her score as he groaned and rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder that he didn’t end up with a headache.

They spent most of the game shooting teasing insults back and forth, playfully trash-talking each other and constantly attempting to one-up one another, and it was with a jolt of surprise that Jemma remembered about halfway through that they were being filmed. For a moment, she felt a bit bad that she’d forgotten and was wasting film by just goofing around with Fitz, but then she reasoned that it didn’t really matter – they were no doubt going to significantly cut the footage down and only use bits and pieces of it for the segment anyhow.

By the end of the game, the score was quite close, and as Jemma watched Fitz taking his last turn, she was unbelievably antsy, bouncing anxiously on her toes in her borrowed bowling shoes. She desperately wanted to _win_ (especially if they were going to have filmed proof of her victory), but as Fitz’s ball began to roll down the lane, her shoulders sagged as she realized that he most likely had more than the four pins he needed to win.

But, the ball suddenly went off course then, knocking into the pins on the very edge and taking down only… Jemma squinted and tilted her head to try to get a good look, counting and recounting just make sure that it truly had been just three.

When she was sure, she burst into action, jumping up and down, crying excitedly, “I won! I _won_! I told you that I was the better bowler, Fitz! I _told_ you!” Even as she was rubbing her victory in his face, Jemma threw her arms around his neck for a hug that he was quick to return.

Chuckling against her temple, he told her, “I’ll want a rematch, naturally.” Their embrace lasted a beat longer before he leaned back a bit and asked, “Shall we do our romance rating now?”

Hastily, Jemma stepped back, having forgotten once again that there was a _reason_ she was out bowling with Fitz in the middle of the day. “Of course.” Giving her hair a quick pat to make sure it wasn’t a mess from the jumping around, she turned to face the camera with a bright smile. “Now, I wouldn’t say that the bowling alley is the most _romantic_ of places –”

“But it certainly is fun,” Fitz cut in, taking the words right from her mouth (as usual), “especially for new couples hoping to break the ice a bit.”

“Exactly,” Jemma agreed, giving Fitz a grateful smile. “For romance, I’d give it a rather low score, perhaps a three. But, for a fun date, I’d have to give it something more like…”

“A seven?” Fitz offered.

She nodded in immediate agreement. “Yes, a seven sounds perfect, Fitz.”

-

Over the next couple of weeks, they featured a few more restaurants, as well as nearby museums and even, memorably, took a cooking class together (Jemma refused to even look at an oven for a week straight afterward). Today, however, they were switching things up a bit by visiting the zoo, on Fitz’s suggestion (or pleading was more like it).

Predictably, he made a direct beeline straight for the monkeys almost as soon as they’d arrived and gotten the cameras set up. Jemma put up with it for a little while (and that was only because he was adorably excited by each new species of monkey they passed by), but eventually, she reminded him, “Fitz, you know, there _are_ plenty of other animals to see here – why, just think of all the fascinating creatures in the reptile house alone!”

But, Fitz grimaced in response and insisted, “But Jemma, the monkeys are the best part!”

Sighing tiredly, Jemma threw a look at the nearest camera, lowering her voice to a stage-whisper to advise to their viewers, “Ladies, hopefully on a real date, your partner won’t be this difficult – _or_ obsessed with monkeys.”

With an insulted huff, Fitz asked, “Oh come on, can you really blame me? Just look at them, Simmons! With their little tails and their adorable little hands and –”

“Excuse me?”

Surprised, Jemma and Fitz both turned at the same time to find a young teenage girl approaching them, a wide grin on her face even as a blush spread across her cheeks.

“Can I…um…can I have your autographs?” the girl asked, holding out a pad of paper and a pen with slightly shaky hands.

Biting her lip, Jemma shared a tiny smile with Fitz before she told the girl, “Of course,” and took the offered pen and paper from her. She scribbled her practiced signature, then handed it over to Fitz to do much the same.

As they were doing so, the girl began gushing excitedly, “I love seeing you both on TV every morning, you just start the day off on such a good note. And of course, your dates are my favorite part of the show. Is that what you’re filming now?”

With a laugh, Jemma handed the pen and paper back as she answered, “Yes, that’s what we’re filming. They’re not _real_ dates of course, but thank you.”

However, the girl looked incredibly confused as she glanced from the autographs on the paper and back up to Fitz and Jemma. “But…the segment is called ‘For the Love of Fitzsimmons’ and it just…it makes it seem like you guys are dating for real.”

Stunned speechless, Jemma barely heard it as Fitz tensely thanked the girl, barely felt it as he gently tugged her by the arm out of the flow of general foot traffic. “They…they’re…they _used_ us,” she whispered, her wide eyes beginning to fill with tears of frustration and anger. “How could Coulson _do_ this? Is he really that desperate to beat Malick?”

“I don’t…” Fitz shrugged helplessly, seeming just as confused by the whole thing as she was. “I don’t have the answer to that, I…”

“Well, I know who does.” With a sudden determination, Jemma grabbed Fitz’s hand and began stomping in the direction of the exit, rolling cameras be damned – she was going to get to the bottom of this _immediately_.

-

“Yes, okay,” Coulson admitted not much later, after Jemma and Fitz had stormed into his office and demanded answers (or rather, Jemma had done the storming and the demanding, while Fitz provided silent support). Even though his expression seemed to be truly chagrined, Jemma refused to feel bad for him or forgive him for such a transgression. “We did use your popularity to gain more viewers – you should have seen all the tweets, the social media attention you two were getting, all these youngsters talking about ‘shipping’ you and about how ‘cute’ you were together. It’s worked better than we ever could’ve imagined it would, really.”

“It doesn’t _matter_ how well it’s worked!” Jemma snapped, curling her fingers tightly around the arms of her chair. “You tricked us!”

Coulson nodded sadly, dropping his eyes to the desk between them. “I should’ve told you the truth from the start, but I wasn’t sure if you would agree, and I just didn’t want to risk it. I know now that I made the wrong call, and for that I’m sorry.”

Jemma turned to Fitz then, who, truthfully, had been unusually quiet since they’d left the zoo earlier, and met his concerned gaze. Coming to a decision, she released a sigh and faced Coulson once more to tell him solemnly, “I’ll continue on the show until I can find something else, but I refuse to be treated this way – Fitz can, of course, make up his own mind.”

Not wanting to drag this out any longer and feeling that she needed to have a good cry, Jemma stood up and left the office, not stopping to talk to anyone and simply heading straight to her nearby flat. After she’d changed into comfy sweats and curled up on the couch to cry a bit into the pint of ice cream she’d had in her freezer, she came to the sudden conclusion that she had to see it for herself. She couldn’t truly know how bad it was, after all, until she’d seen it with her own eyes.

So, reluctantly, she turned on the TV to find the past few episodes of the show; she always made sure to record them, even if she never watched them, just in case. It wasn’t long before she’d abandoned her half-empty carton of ice cream, watching in disbelief as she and Fitz flirted rather shamelessly on the screen.

Through her complete shock (had they _always_ appeared to be flirting rather than bickering?), Jemma had to admit that it was no wonder everyone had assumed that they were real dates – that _hug_ at the bowling alley was rather damning, and the way that they stared into each other’s eyes…

The segment turned out to be much longer than she’d imagined it would be, and featured snippets from all throughout their “dates”. Grudgingly (because she was still mad at this all being done behind her back), Jemma could also admit that she could see why it was pulling in viewers – if Coulson had just _come_ to them and been honest from the beginning…

But, even then, Jemma knew that she wouldn’t have gone along with it. It wasn’t right, lying to everyone like this, and it wasn’t fair to her and Fitz to have to pretend to be something that they weren’t (even though none of what they’d done on those dates had been even slightly fake, but she couldn’t think about that now).

Even though it hurt to think about leaving all of her friends at the network, she knew that the right thing to do was to simply sever ties and to try to start off fresh somewhere else, hopefully working for someone a bit more honest – and hopefully, with Fitz still at her side.

-

Bright and early the next morning, Jemma showed up at the studio, as per her verbal agreement with Coulson, but was surprised to find that only Daisy was waiting there, going over the predicted weather for the next few days. “What are you doing here?” she asked Jemma, seeming just as surprised to see her. “Aren’t you supposed to be out filming on location for your next date spot?”

With a sigh, Jemma shook her head and stepped up beside Daisy’s little desk, leaning heavily against it. “That’s over.”

Daisy’s confusion only seemed to grow then as she swiveled around in her chair to look at the empty set. “But…I saw Fitz leave with the crew a little while ago, and he told me that was what you guys were filming today.”

Now just as confused as Daisy, Jemma stayed only long enough to receive a written address of that day’s location from Daisy before rushing off to it. It was still dark when she arrived at what appeared to simply be a grassy little hilltop, and she wasn’t even sure that she was in the right place.

Frustration pulsed through her as she shut her car door behind her, beginning the trek up the hill. She was upset with Coulson for this whole big mess, she was upset with Fitz for not letting her know ahead of time what was going on, and she was upset that she was in heels and a dress as she stumbled her way up the gentle slope.

When she reached the top, Jemma was relieved to find that her climb wasn’t for nothing, and Fitz was waiting there with their regular camera crew. Her relief only lasted a moment before she demanded to know, “What is _happening_ , Fitz?”

He hastily whirled around to face her, his eyes rounded with what she assumed was surprise at her abrupt appearance, though he did also seem quite nervous for some reason. Then, he took a deep breath and gestured to the horizon behind him as he explained, “Today’s date is watching the sunrise.”

Sighing tiredly, Jemma told him, “Fitz, that’s a wonderful idea, but I thought –”

However, he cut her off there to say quickly, “I don’t want you to leave, alright? The whole date thing, it wasn’t…it wasn’t just Coulson’s idea – sure, Coulson did all the research and found out that we were popular, but…but it was me who suggested the dates, because I was too afraid to…ask you on one myself.” He inhaled another long breath, his shoulders sagging as he released it. “I thought that it would get easier if we had some…practice dates, but…” He closed his eyes and shook his head in clear frustration. “I just mucked everything up instead, and if anyone should leave and find a new job, it’s me.”

Stunned speechless by Fitz’s long-winded confession, Jemma could see the slightest bit of pink and orange peeking over the mountains behind him as she attempted to gather her suddenly scattered thoughts. Finally, she asked what she considered to be the most important of the questions on her mind, “How long have you…felt this way?”

Fitz gave a shrug that had his shoulders up by his ears and shoved his hands into his pockets as he admitted, “Well, I dunno how long…I mean, I just know that I realized maybe I felt a bit more than friendship when we did that interview with the doctor who had found the cure to some rare disease. I know, I know, it’s crazy, but…you were just so _interested_ and you weren’t even faking it ‘cause your eyes were all lit up and I just…spent the whole time staring at you because…well, how could I not?” With a dry smirk, he went on, “I think that’s when viewers started…y’know, ‘ _shipping_ ’ us, so I’m sorry.”

Jemma blinked a couple of times, seeing out of the corner of her eye as the sun slowly began to rise, and she couldn’t help but feel that it really was dawning on a new day. She closed the space between herself and Fitz then, murmuring, “Fitz, you can’t leave.”

“I will if it means that you don’t have to,” Fitz insisted, giving a firm shake of his head.

Jemma gave a shake of her own head then as she told him, “No, Fitz, I don’t want you to leave, or for me to leave; I want you to stay here, _with_ me.” As his eyes began to grow wide once more, she took the last few steps between them and slid her arms around his neck, tugging him in until she could find his lips with her own. He was clearly caught off-guard at first, his hands fumbling at her waist, but as she moved her lips over his, encouraging him to respond, he eventually melted into it, and it was _perfect_.

When they broke apart some time later, it was simply to grin rather stupidly at each other, gazing into each other’s eyes in the way she hadn’t noticed until just yesterday that they’d been doing for years now.

After a moment, a soft laugh slipped past Jemma’s lips and she gave Fitz’s shoulder a playful shove. “I can’t believe you thought this whole convoluted idea was easier than simply asking me out!”

Making a face at himself, Fitz nodded shamefully. “I _know_ , I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean, it _is_ sweet, in a way.” Rolling her eyes fondly at Fitz’s hopeful little smile, she pecked his lips once more before she leaned away from him a bit, so as to watch the sun as it finished its ascent into the sky above them. As they were turning away from the sight, however, her gaze landed on the cameras that she’d completely forgotten were there and rolling this entire time. Groaning in complete disbelief, she elbowed Fitz sharply in the ribs and glared up at him. “ _Fitz_.”

“It was Coulson’s idea,” Fitz explained, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and smiling sheepishly. “If you don’t want us to air any of it, then we won’t, beating Malick be damned.”

Jemma mulled it over for a moment, pursing her lips thoughtfully, before a slow smile began to spread across her face.

-

The following day, Jemma cuddled up closer to where Fitz was curled up on the couch in her flat with her, the newest episode of _Wake Up, Washington!_ playing on the screen of her television. As the footage of her and Fitz on the hill with the sun rising behind them played for the final ‘For the Love of Fitzsimmons’ segment, she buried her smile against Fitz’s shoulder, letting out a laugh as she watched herself yanking Fitz in closer for a kiss.

“It’s no wonder we’re the most popular morning show now – just _look_ at that kiss,” she pointed out teasingly, glancing up to catch Fitz’s gaze as she asked, “Why haven’t we been doing that for years? I mean, since we look so good while kissing each other, it’s practically a crime that we’ve waited this long.”

Letting out a sharp laugh, Fitz wrapped his arm more securely around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “I certainly wouldn’t have complained – and neither would the viewers apparently, since the video of my…er…confession and our kiss is trending almost worldwide.” At her curiously raised brow, he waved his phone and explained, “Daisy’s been texting me updates almost every twenty minutes; oh, and she’s also very sorry for playing a part in tricking you yesterday.”

Giving a mock-dramatic sigh, Jemma replied, “Well, I _suppose_ that I can forgive her, given that I’m quite happy with how things turned out.” Then, with a little smirk playing on her lips, she told him, “You know Fitz, I do love competing against you, but I think I love competing _with_ you even more – we really can do anything when we put our minds together.” Her smirk morphed into a sly grin as she corrected pointedly, “Or, in this case, our lips.”

And then as they both dissolved into laughter, Jemma leant up to catch said lips with her own, leaving only their voices coming from the television set to echo through her now otherwise silent flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	60. 4x15 Switch-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "if you're taking prompts, i would love to see your take on the scene in 4x15 if Jemma was the LMD instead of Fitz".

_Four LMDs_.

They’d gone into that base, intending to rescue Mace and May, intending to stop Radcliffe and the Superior and anyone else involved, and instead four of their own had been kidnapped and replaced with LMDs without their notice and sent back into SHIELD to…

_To do what?_

At his sides, Fitz’s hands began to shake with guilt and fear, overwhelmed by the reminder that whatever happened from here on out, whatever had happened already…it was _his_ fault; he’d helped Radcliffe perfect AIDA and the LMD design, he’d helped him create the Framework, he’d allowed himself to be blinded by a man he’d thought he could trust. _Again_.

But, then his gaze met Jemma’s in the bright lights of the lab, and found a similar fear in hers, and he began to calm a bit. Jemma was there with him, no matter what Radcliffe’s plan was, and her words from the Zephyr ran through his mind then – _wrongs have been committed, now we make them right, together_.

Releasing a shaky exhale and giving a slight nod, he reminded himself that they could solve anything when they put their minds together. They could get through this, they could stop whatever was coming and save their friends, because they were in this _together_.

And together, they managed to get out of a rather sticky situation when Mace wanted to see Fitz in his office to go over the possible weapon specs on the Superior’s submarine. Jemma had been quick on her feet, jumping in to say that they were moving the tech taken from the base to study in the workshop, hoping that it would lead them to Radcliffe’s real base.

Fortunately, they also knew now that the LMDs’ target was the Inhumans, which gave them an objective – find a way to stop them before they could bring all the Inhumans to the base and systematically take them out.

Before any of the LMDs could return to the lab, they then hurried to take their equipment down to the workshop. Keeping their heads down and moving as quickly as they dared, they talked in hushed voices as they figured out together how Radcliffe and AIDA had managed to create LMDs of all of their friends.

“Radcliffe gassed them during the raid. That’s why we lost time,” Fitz was saying, his voice barely above a whisper as they passed by others in the hall. His horror with the whole situation continuing to grow, he went on, “Quick scan of the brain, transfer that data to a body, which must have already been built…”

“Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing,” Jemma assured him, proving that they were on the same wavelength, like always. “He could’ve had…” She trailed off when another agent walked past the cart they were pushing. “Sorry,” she said quickly, then lowered her voice further as she started again, “He could’ve had digital scans of their features.”

“From the eyes of the May android,” Fitz finished as the idea dawned on him, clenching his hands more tightly around the handle of the cart as another surge of nauseating guilt coursed through him. “Complete physical geometry.”

“So, he could’ve replaced anybody,” Jemma surmised, the fear of that truth plainly written in her tone.

They arrived at the workshop then, and as Jemma went to close and secure the door, Fitz was startled by a sudden alert on the opened laptop atop the cart. Frowning, he circled around until he could pick it up, and when he saw the picture of himself and Jemma in the hallway just outside and the words “[1] LMD Detected: West Sector” across the top, his heart stopped beating and a cold emptiness swept through his body.

 _Jemma had been replaced_.

“Fitz?” He glanced up to find that Jemma had stepped up beside him, and she frowned as she tried to get a glimpse at the screen over his shoulder. “Let me see.”

Trying to keep his hands steady, he handed the laptop over, waiting until she was distracted before he started taking steps away from the thing with Jemma’s face. His entire world felt as though it had fallen apart around him because _that wasn’t Jemma_ , and it was all his fault; he’d allowed her to go off after AIDA in the Superior’s base, he’d let her out of his sight, he’d _perfected_ bloody AIDA and the LMDs in the first place, created the Framework. It was all supposed to protect her, and yet…

His left hand was shaking terribly as he continued his slow escape from her – _it_ with wide, horrified eyes already filling with tears because it wasn’t Jemma, which meant that she’d been taken by AIDA god knows where and he couldn’t get to her and he couldn’t save her with the base filled with LMDs rather than their friends and he couldn’t _breathe_.

 “The lab techs must’ve taken it upon themselves to mount LMD detection devices randomly throughout the base…” She trailed off, and he watched as she set the laptop back down, watched as her shoulders tensed, watched as she abruptly whirled around, holding a gun leveled directly at his chest.

Automatically, Fitz threw his hands up and ducked, trying to protect himself from being shot by the bloody android with Jemma’s face – his only consolation was that he knew he needed to be alive to be scanned, but that wasn’t much comfort at the moment. “ _Whoa_!”

“It’s _you_ ,” she gasped suddenly, blinking back tears and her hands trembling where they were attempting to hold the gun steady. “They…they _replaced_ you.”

“What? No!” Fitz shook his head quickly, bewildered by the accusation. “I’m not… It’s not me!”

“It is! It _is_.” Jemma inhaled a shuddering breath, giving him a look that was somewhere between pleading and horrified. “You…you’re like _May_ , you don’t…you don’t know, do you?”

Fitz opened his mouth to insist once again that it wasn’t him, but Jemma’s words had him stalled. He…he really wasn’t sure – could that possibly be the real Jemma? Could she really be scared out of her mind because _he’d_ been replaced without realizing it? After all, he’d seen the May LMD, had analyzed her programming and found that she had in fact been working on Radcliffe’s agendas without consciously realizing what she was doing until it was too late.

“But…you suggested we come down here,” he started slowly, working almost sluggishly through his scattered thoughts as he tried to figure out the truth. “You wanted to get me alone.”

“No! You…you were the one telling me to act normal. You knew how the LMDs were made,” Jemma reminded him, tears down falling steadily down her cheeks, and LMD or not, his heart ached in the way it always did when he was forced to watch Jemma cry and could do nothing to comfort her.

“I’m not the one that’s pointing a gun!” he shot back. “I think…I think I’d know that I’m not a bloody android!” But, he stumbled over the words, not sure of it at all – she’d sowed a seed of doubt in his mind. All of the fight went out of him in an instant then as his shoulders sagged and he whispered, “You know, of _course_ this is happening – this always happens, to you, to me, to us. It’s…god Jem, it’s my worst fear coming true.” He’d done all of this to protect her, and now, all he could seem to do was _hurt_ her instead. With a soft sniffle, he admitted, “Regardless of…of who it is, this is my fault, Jemma, and I’m sorry.”

She eyed him for a moment, the gun in her hands never wavering, before she nodded shortly. “It is. It is, Fitz.”

He nodded sadly, dropping his eyes briefly. “I perfected the technology, I started this whole nightmare. I’m…I’m so _sorry_ , Jemma.”

“Don’t make me feel _bad_ for you,” she whispered tightly then, narrowing her eyes around the tears standing in them. “Don’t…don’t hurt me.”

Stunned, Fitz raised his head and widened his eyes as he hastily held his hands back up from where he’d allowed them to lower slightly. “I _couldn’t_ ,” he promised seriously. “Even if I’m the decoy, I…I _couldn’t_ , Jemma.” It was the truth; he would do anything to make sure that Jemma wasn’t hurt anymore, and if he was the LMD, then…then he’d just have to find a way to stop himself. “I’ll do whatever you say, okay?”

Jemma’s eyes flitted about the darkened workshop then, before landing on the workbench behind him, and she nodded toward it. “Pick it up.”

Turning slightly, it was a moment before Fitz registered what it was Jemma was asking him to do, but then his eyes fell on the knife lying there. “And…and do what?”

“Cut your wrist,” she replied matter-of-factly, “if you’re the LMD, I’ll see your substructure and I’ll know. And if not…”

Giving a short, slightly unhinged laugh, Fitz finished, “Then you’re the android, and you’ve just convinced me to slit my wrist.”

“Just…do it!” Jemma insisted, waving the gun encouragingly at the knife.

Deciding not to argue about this any longer (the not knowing was killing him – could he possibly have been replaced without his knowledge? Or was Jemma’s LMD just as smart as her, effectively tricking him into doubting himself?), he reached out to pick up the knife with a trembling hand, bringing it to his exposed forearm, and taking a deep breath before slicing through his skin.

Pain shot through his arm, and his knees grew weak as he dropped his eyes to check for the wires and metal he was expecting to find, almost hoping for it by then (if he was the android, that meant that Jemma was safe, she still had a chance to get out of there and get to safety). However, he started to feel faint when all he saw was blood and there was _bone_ and…

Just as he was on the verge of passing out, little black spots dancing on the edges of his vision, he was dragged back into full awareness when a _bang_ echoed through the room and another surge of pain flashed through his thigh, causing him to drop like a rock to the hard, concrete floor.

The last thing he saw was something with Jemma’s face but cold, dead eyes staring down at him. “Jemma…” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply, before he was knocked cleanly out with a paint can to the head, the darkness engulfing him.

-

The next time Fitz came to, it was to find himself strapped to a chair with something perched on his head, wires connecting him to the laptop sitting on the cart nearby. Despite the remaining fog in his brain, he understood immediately what was happening.

“You need me conscious…to map my frontal lobe,” he said groggily into the still silence of the workshop.

Jemma’s LMD turned from where she’d been typing on the computer, and she had the nerve to _smile_ at him, as though she was really Jemma and they were really there together and everything was okay when everything was the furthest from okay. “The rest you can sleep through,” she promised gently as she crossed the short distance between them, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to drop a loving kiss against his temple.

Fitz fought the urge to cringe away, fought the urge to close his eyes and lean into her touch. She had Jemma’s face and her voice and her beautiful, incredible _mind_ – but, he had to remember that this wasn’t Jemma, because no bloody LMD could possibly replicate her _heart_.

“Why…why are you doing this?” he asked as she moved back over to the computer. He knew he wasn’t going to get an actual answer out of her; he just needed to stall for time, come up with a plan to get out of this. If he allowed himself to be scanned and replaced, then there would be no one left to find the real Jemma and save her, and that just wasn’t an option.

“I’m doing it for you,” Jemma’s LMD replied. “For us. You see, what we’ve always suspected I now know to be true. Consciousness is separate from the physical self.”

Mostly ignoring her words, Fitz struggled despite the way his leg felt as though it was on fire and the blood leaking from his sliced wrist at an alarming rate. Finally, he managed to tip his chair to the side, slowly freeing his hands from their loose bindings and removing the head piece, tossing it aside.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Fitz,” she sighed, seeming more exasperated than upset at his escape. “There’s no reason to be afraid.” As he began to half-crawl, half-drag himself away, she explained, “For years now, I’ve been terrified at the idea of losing you, always doing my best to protect you. But Radcliffe’s cured death, Fitz. You know this to be true; you worked on the Framework with him. And once I map your brain, we’ll never have to fear losing each other.” As he continued to crawl away, she followed unconcernedly, insisted, “Fitz, you’re too weak to fight. Once you’re in the Framework, we can be together forever.”

Then, a soft smile curved her lips, and it had Fitz’s breath catching in his throat, his mind temporarily blanking. It was a smile that he’d seen on Jemma’s face more and more since they’d gotten together, one that radiated true happiness and love, one that he often saw on her lips when they woke up beside each other, when she whispered against his lips how much she loved him.

“Fitz…in the Framework, we can find Perthshire together, we can get married, grow old together – it’s all I’ve ever wanted for us,” she finished, her eyes lighting up in the way Jemma’s would when she’d had a breakthrough on an experiment or he’d surprised her with a night in watching their favorite movies after she’d had a bad day.

Fitz’s heart began to pound in his chest then, because _there they were_ , the words he’d been waiting for, the ones that would give him the courage to take that ring out of the back of his sock drawer and give it to Jemma to wear on her finger, the ones that would begin their forever. He’d been waiting for the smallest sign, the right string of words to convince him that Jemma wanted to be married just as much as he did.

But, it was all wrong; it was Jemma’s mind inside an artificial body, a _copy_ , and there was no guarantee that it was real, that the LMD wasn’t just saying that to get him to cooperate. So, he pushed down the flood of emotions in his chest and closed his hand around the handle of the sledgehammer he’d been reaching for. “Yeah, well, I’ll discuss all that with Jemma when I see her,” he told the LMD pointedly, then lifted the hammer and brought it down with as much force as he could muster in his current condition. The lever gave under the pressure, sending an engine falling atop Jemma’s LMD, just as he’d planned.

She cried out in shock, and he scrambled over to grab the knife he’d dropped earlier, finding her struggling, crying, begging him not to hurt her. “ _Please_ Fitz,” she gasped out through her broken sobs, “don’t do this. _Please_.”

Hastily, Fitz squeezed his eyes shut so that he wouldn’t have to see the panic and fear in her face as he blindly began stabbing. His eyes being closed, however, didn’t stop him from hearing her gut-wrenching screams as she pleaded with him, and then –

Then, there was a hand wrapped tightly around his throat and his eyes flew open to see Jemma’s face housing those cold, dead eyes once more. It reminded him that it _wasn’t her_ , so he struggled to get a breath, ignoring her whispered, “It’s me, Fitz, it’s _me_ ,” and stabbed her right in the neck, right where he knew would short circuit her.

In an instant, the life went out of her, and his hands were covered in blood and shaking violently now as he fell backwards in his haste to get away from what was effectively Jemma’s corpse. For an indefinite amount of time, Fitz simply stayed there, huddled against the wall with his whole body trembling.

_What was he supposed to do now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	61. Season 3B Speculation + Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written last year, during the hiatus between Season 3A and 3B; set sometime post 3x10.

After sleeping through her alarm and therefore getting a late start to the day, Jemma was hurrying down the hall to the lab, an apology to Fitz already forming on her lips. They’d planned to work on a new project Coulson had assigned them the day before first thing, and normally Jemma wouldn’t be worried about being late because Fitz almost _always_ was, but he’d apparently broken that habit during the months she’d been gone and at times, he even got to work in the lab earlier than she did.

“Jemma! Hey!” Daisy called as she passed, rushing to catch up with her. “I was just looking for you – I wanted to ask you something.”

Jemma bit back a frustrated groan, throwing a longing glance at the entrance to the lab, mere meters away, before pausing and turning to Daisy with a tired smile. “Yes, what is it?”

Daisy rocked back on her heels, pursing her lips and letting out a sigh. “Okay, so Lincoln and I were supposed to go on that double date with Bobbi and Hunter, right?”

“And you were very excited about it,” Jemma remembered, nodding in understanding. “What happened?”

“Well, Hunter just got back from a mission for Coulson, and I heard him and Bobbi screaming at each other in the locker room about something.” She groaned, bringing up a hand to cover her eyes. “So, I think the date is a no-go, and I don’t want things to be super awkward with Lincoln – like this is still so new for us, so…” She dropped her hand, giving Jemma a hopeful look. “I was wondering if you’d want to come along? There’ll be free food and a movie, and the awkward tension between a new couple – what can beat that?”

Jemma chewed her lip as she wrung her hands together, thinking over Daisy’s plea. Hanging out with Daisy and Lincoln and watching them flirt and couple-out wasn’t exactly what she wanted just then, but on the other hand, she knew how hard Daisy’s love life (and life in general, really) had been and just wanted her to be happy. So, if being the third wheel on their first date was what she needed, then Jemma would be there for her, regardless of how she felt about it. “Of course I’ll come along. I suppose I could use an excuse to have a life outside the lab.”

Daisy let out an excited squeal, throwing her arms around Jemma in a quick but sincere hug. “Thank you so much! This is gonna be great! Meet us in the hangar at six-thirty, okay?”

“Alright,” Jemma agreed, giving Daisy a small smile and wave before she continued on her way to the lab. As soon as she was through the door, she noticed Fitz hunched over at his desk, working intently on some project, and the apology she’d prepared burst forth. “Fitz! I’m so sorry, I slept late, which you know is so unlike me, and then Daisy stopped me in the hall, but –”

“’S’fine,” Fitz interrupted, giving a careless shrug and setting aside what he’d been working on. “No problem.”

And just like that, Jemma was reminded of why she’d spent the night tossing and turning, leading to her oversleeping that morning. Obsessing over the way Fitz held himself away from her, over how impossible fixing their relationship seemed, over how much she just wanted to stride up to him and claim his lips like he’d done to her so many weeks ago – it’d been a near constant of her daily life for so long now, but she still hadn’t gotten any closer to a solution and it was driving her mad.

But, with no clear answers yet again, Jemma just forced a cheery smile and nodded. “Let’s get to work, then.”

-

That night, at six-thirty on the dot, Jemma entered the hangar, feeling odd and out of place in her nice evening wear, rather than the simple shirts and cardigans she’d been wearing around the base since she’d returned. She spotted Daisy and Lincoln by one of the nondescript black SUVs, and began heading over, a wide smile already affixed to her lips.

But, both her step and her smile faltered when someone else appeared around the side of the SUV to speak to the other two, a grumpy look on his face and his hands shoved into his pockets.

Jemma’s first thought was to flee, and her gaze shot to the hangar door behind her as she calculated the likelihood of being able to make her escape before anyone noticed her.

All her hopes were dashed when Daisy started waving her arms frantically and calling out to her, gesturing for her to come join them. Jemma took a couple automatic steps in response, but then she noticed the huge smile on Daisy’s face and it all suddenly made sense – they’d been set up. That was why Jemma had seen the bewildering sight of Hunter and Bobbi looking cozy and not at all at odds in the common area earlier, and that was why Daisy had carefully left out the fact that it wouldn’t be just _Jemma_ joining them tonight. Because they’d been set up.

Even as her heart began to race and her palms began to sweat with nerves, Jemma felt a wash of gratitude for her (other) best friend, who had somehow picked up on the problems plaguing her and set to helping her fix them. Though she would rather have _not_ been left in the dark about it, she was completely grateful for the opportunity.

Replacing her former faux smile with a much more genuine one, Jemma continued on her way over, ignoring the betrayed look Fitz was shooting at Daisy. “Even being on time, I’m the last one here. I hope I’m not making a habit of being late.”

Daisy chuckled, throwing an exaggerated wink at Jemma. “The only time you’ve got to be worried about being late is when it’s your period, Jemma.” With that, she and Lincoln disappeared around their respective sides of the SUV, the sound of doors opening and closing following.

Rolling her eyes at Daisy’s ill-humored joke, Jemma moved to open her own door, but paused when she saw Fitz still standing rigidly near the back of the car. “Fitz?” she called, frowning when he didn’t even look up to acknowledge that he’d heard her. “Are you coming?”

He gave an audible sigh, his shoulders slumping, but he moved regardless, going around the car to open his door and get in. Jemma followed, trying not to let their close proximity and the heat she could feel coming off of him get to her. However, cramped together in the back seat as they were, she could smell the new cologne he’d taken to wearing and it was making it difficult for her to focus. All she could think of was the last time she’d been close enough to smell said cologne, and with that sensory memory came another – the taste of his lips, hungry and desperate against her own.

Taking a deep, calming breath through her nose and letting it out through her mouth, Jemma let her eyes slip briefly closed as she forced herself not to get caught up in thinking about kissing Fitz yet again. It didn’t work quite right, and when she reopened her eyes, all she could think about was reaching over the scant space between them to rest her hand over Fitz’s, lacing their fingers together and holding onto him for dear life. She never wanted to let him go again.

It wasn’t too long before they arrived at the restaurant, and Jemma bit back a smile when Lincoln rushed to pull out the chair for a surprised Daisy. As such, she barely noticed that her own chair had been pulled out until it was too late and Fitz was already sitting, his gaze studiously focused on his menu. Fighting the urge to sigh in frustration, she sat down and picked up her own menu, blocking out the sound of Daisy and Lincoln discussing the different options.

After they’d ordered and were waiting for their food, Daisy struck up a conversation in an attempt to include Fitz and Jemma as well, and somehow got on the subject of Jemma’s failed attempt at sneaking around at the Hub what seemed like lifetimes ago now.

Smirking from ear to ear, Daisy regaled an amused Lincoln, a mortified Jemma, and an impassive Fitz with the tale, stopping every now and then when she couldn’t speak she was laughing so hard. “And then,” she went on, shaking her head and snickering into her hand, “she told him that he had a gorgeous _head_!”

“I was under pressure and had had no time to prepare!” Jemma defended herself, covering her blush-warmed neck with her hands. “I’d like to have seen you do better!”

“Wait wait wait, I haven’t gotten to the best part yet,” Daisy insisted, ignoring Jemma completely and flapping her hand excitedly. “When he wasn’t falling for it, Jemma shot him with the Night-Night Gun! And she thought she’d actually done _alright_!”

Lincoln shot a grin at Jemma, chuckling along with Daisy’s near-hysterical laughter. “Wow. And I didn’t think there was anything worse than _my_ attempts to fly under the radar.”

Jemma sighed, giving him a small smile. “I suppose there’s not much worse than my lack of lying skills before I went undercover.”

Daisy was still trying to get her laughter under control, now with the aid of Lincoln, so Jemma focused on Fitz, who hadn’t spoken or reacted at all during Daisy’s story. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and felt a wave of relief at the sight of the tiniest of smiles quirking his lips.

Dinner startlingly passed without Daisy making any more attempts to embarrass anyone, and they left the restaurant to walk the short distance to the theater. Daisy and Lincoln ended up a bit ahead of Fitz and Jemma on the sidewalk, hands linked between them. Jemma was once more hit with the all-consuming urge to reach for Fitz’s hand, but not only was it hidden in his pocket, she had no idea how he’d react to such an advance.

With a resigned sigh, Jemma tucked her hands into the sleeves of her thin cardigan and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep out the sudden cold emptiness that she felt.

A sharp gasp left her lips moments later when she quite abruptly found herself with Fitz’s arm draped over her shoulders, pressing her against his side. He was as warm as ever, and paired with the reemergence of Jemma’s desperate hope, she quickly went from freezing to toasty warm, inside and out.

“You looked cold,” Fitz muttered, giving a shrug and keeping his eyes focused ahead of him. Jemma wished that he would just _look_ _at her_ , but figured that she’d take what she could get for now.

“Thank you,” she murmured in response, feeling brave enough to rest her head on his shoulder. He tensed a bit, but didn’t protest, so she didn’t bother to move from the new position. For some reason, she was feeling irrationally giddy at the idea that anyone passing them just then would assume that they were a couple, having a romantic night out.

Of course, that just served to remind her that they _weren’t_ couple, nor were they having a romantic night out. But, she stubbornly refused to dwell on that, and rather focus instead on _making_ it true.

At the theater, Lincoln and Fitz went to get the tickets while Daisy dragged Jemma with her to concessions. Once she was sure the guys weren’t close enough to overhear, Jemma asked Daisy pointedly, “How long have you been planning this, then?”

Daisy gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Don’t you remember? I talked to Bobbi and Hunter about it a couple of weeks ago.”

Jemma planted her hands on her hips, shooting Daisy a dry look in lieu of a verbal response.

“Okay, fine. I _was_ planning on doubling with Bobbi and Hunter, but then I saw you giving Fitz heart eyes and him ignoring the _hell_ out of them, so I talked to Bobbi, who was one hundred percent on board – maybe even a hundred and ten, who knows? Lincoln was a little confused by the sudden change, but I explained it to him, and I think he’s just going with it, but still. Anyway, how are things going?”

Jemma scoffed, shaking her head in exasperation. “Fitz has mastered the art of pretending there’s nothing between us – I don’t think one night on a forced date will change that. But, thank you for trying, Daisy.”

Daisy didn’t seem to be off put by Jemma’s words, a determined look on her face. “We’ll see about that,” she replied cryptically as she turned to order popcorn and candy, even though they’d just eaten.

Fitz and Lincoln met them in the lobby, and they went into the theater together, Jemma ending up seated between Fitz and Daisy. Daisy had ordered two tubs of popcorn to share, and she and Lincoln had claimed one, leaving the other for Jemma and Fitz. She offered it to him, and he muttered a thanks, taking a handful as his gaze never leaving the previews playing on the giant screen.

She could hear Daisy giggling beside her, and a quick glance over showed that both she and Lincoln had reached for popcorn at the same time, accidentally touching hands, and were now gazing at each other with huge smiles.

Sighing, Jemma slouched a bit in her seat, settling in for what would no doubt be the longest movie of her life.

Fortunately, the movie Daisy had chosen ahead of time was of the action/adventure genre, and was not some sickeningly sweet romance movie that Jemma normally had a secret love for, but would make everything uncomfortable at the present time. Unfortunately, however, about midway through, the protagonist and her love interest came to the height of the romantic tension between them, and the music swelled throughout the theater as he pressed her up against the wall, planting an unexpected but passionate kiss on her lips.

Jemma was hit with the vivid memory of experiencing something incredibly similar with the man beside her, and had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from reaching for him. The kiss on the screen was going much longer than theirs had – not cut far too short by one of them breaking it and claiming that they were cursed, go figure. Then, the scenery changed, the couple was suddenly flopping onto a bed, and moans, along with declarations of lust and love, poured out of the surround sound.

Unconsciously, Jemma shot a glance at Fitz, and even in the darkened theater, she could see the tense set to his jaw and shoulders, as though he too was keeping himself from grabbing her and reenacting the intense love scene. But, to Jemma’s extreme disappointment, he didn’t, and soon the movie was back to its fast-paced action plot.

All too soon, it was over and they were heading back to the base, Daisy and Lincoln discussing the movie, and Jemma joined in here and there, if only to break the awkward silence that seemed to linger in the backseat alone. When they arrived back in the hangar, Lincoln and Daisy left hand-in-hand, but not before she threw a wink back over her shoulder at them.

Jemma, left alone with Fitz for the first time all night, opened her mouth to say something – anything – but Fitz spoke first, mumbling a good night as he moved quickly toward the entrance back into the base. However, she was having none of that, and stalked after him, grasping his arm to slow him down. “Fitz!”

His shoulders rose and fell on a deep sigh, and without turning around, he asked, “What?”

Feeling her frustration from the past few weeks bubbling over, Jemma snapped, “Would you please just _look at me_? Can you pretend for a moment that I’m not such a terrible sight so that we can have an actual conversation?”

Abruptly, Fitz whirled to face her, his blue eyes blazing. “What? What do you want from me, Jemma?”

Jemma threw up her hands in exasperation. “I want to know why spending time with me is suddenly the worst thing you can imagine, why you can’t even bother to look at me, why you’re acting like we’re barely even friends, let alone…” Losing a bit of steam, she trailed off, unsure how to end that sentence.

“You want to know why?” Fitz clenched his jaw, and she noticed his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Because spending time with you is _torture_ , Jemma. Even just _looking_ at you…it’s…it’s just easier to pretend that it’s not tearing me up inside. If I pretend that you’re just another colleague then I’m not thinking about how much it kills me what we could’ve had, how much I –” He cut himself off, pressing his lips into a thin line and glaring down at the ground between them.

Jemma was aghast at what he’d revealed during his outburst, slowly shaking her head as she absorbed the obvious meaning behind them. “Fitz…when did…when did _anyone_ say that you had to pretend that there was nothing between us? When did we decide that what we can have became what we _could’ve_ had?”

Fitz raised his head to shoot her an incredulous look. “I think you know, Jemma.”

Her frustration was rising to dangerous levels once more, and she took a deep breath to attempt to calm herself before she told him slowly, carefully, and in no uncertain terms, “I needed time to mourn, to deal with my guilt, and to figure out my rather confused emotions, yes. But, now? For weeks I’ve known what I want, and I’ve been attempting to make it clear, but I suppose I haven’t been clear enough. Allow me to try again. Fitz, all along, it’s been _you_. You’re the one I want, the one I’ll _always_ want – my first choice, and I now understand, the only choice for me. Nothing else will make me happy, no matter how hard I pretend. I’m very much in love with you and I’d appreciate it if you stopped pretending that you don’t feel the same and instead focus your energies on kissing me breathless. Preferably multiple times a day for the rest of our lives.”

He was gaping at her for most of her long-winded confession, jaw slack with disbelief. By the time she’d finished, he’d moved onto rapid blinking, and it looked a bit like he was trying to keep tears at bay. Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak, but ended up clearing his throat again before he managed, “Jemma, I… Are you sure?”

Jemma let out a startled laugh, stunned by the fact that he even had to ask after everything she’d just said. However, this _was_ Fitz, so she stepped into him, grasping the front of his shirt in her hands and going up onto the tips of her toes to press her forehead against his. “Yes. I’m very, _very_ sure, Fitz.”

He swallowed audibly, nodding a bit dumbly before he blinked and blurted out, “God Jem, I love you too. I love you so much – more than anything. You’re the only that could ever make me happy too, you know that, right?”

Beaming, Jemma slid her hands up and over his shoulders, linking them behind his head as she brushed her nose against his. “I had a suspicion. Now, about the other part?”

“The kissing part?” Fitz asked, a sly smirk playing around his lips.

“That’s the one.”

“What about it?”

Biting her lip, Jemma felt a swell of heat low in her stomach when his gaze immediately dropped to watch the action. “Well, now seems like a good a time as any to get started on it, wouldn’t you say?”

Rather than reply verbally, Fitz swooped down to capture her lips, just as she’d hoped he would. She smiled against his lips as his hands came up to rest against her back, pressing her closer to him and further into his embrace.

When they eventually parted a long moment later, Jemma took a step back, grasping one of Fitz’s hands in hers and tugging on it as she took another step in the direction of the hangar door, an eyebrow arched in a silent question. Fitz’s astonished expression only lasted for seconds, then he was leading the way toward the bunks, a willing and eager Jemma trailing along behind him.

The next morning, when Jemma was once more late to the lab, it was with a huge and satisfied grin on her face, Fitz following not far behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	62. 4x22 Missing Moment - Pre-Diner Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Could you write something filling in between the "we're all in this together" and the diner arrest scenes in the Season 4 finale? Like maybe FitzSimmons talking on the way to/at the Diner?"

He was going to stay behind.

Fitz had been planning to stay behind, to allow himself to get captured and to be held accountable for every awful thing that had happened recently, all thanks to Radcliffe and AIDA and Ivanov – _not_ Fitz. He’d tried to sacrifice himself, yet again, in some new way, just to protect the rest of their team, just because he thought it was his punishment for things he’d had no control over.

Their ragtag little group was making the short walk from the bar, under which the Playground was hidden, to a nearby diner that Coulson had suggested they grab some food at, and the others seemed to be in surprisingly good spirits, given the situation.

But, Jemma was feeling a mix of emotions, unable to settle on just one. Simultaneously, she was unwaveringly supportive of Fitz in his recent struggles, while also being beyond upset with him for trying to pull another sacrifice play instead of staying together and trying to fix things. She was hurting at seeing him punishing himself, blaming himself, and she was worried that there was nothing that she could say or do to help him (and that feeling, of not being able to help him, was familiar enough to have her stomach knotting itself up with nausea, reminding her of a time she’d rather forget about).

Shooting a brief glance over her shoulder, she found Fitz at the back of the group, feet dragging and head hanging, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was the very picture of dejected, of broken down and empty, and Jemma’s heart ached at the sight, while at the same time her resolve hardened. Even if there was nothing that she could say or do to help him, she still had to try; she couldn’t allow him to self-destruct like this, she couldn’t _bear_ it.

With that in mind, she slowed down her own pace, breaking away from the others. When Daisy glanced back curiously, she murmured, “You guys go on ahead, we’ll catch up.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed in concern as her gaze flicked between Fitz’s downtrodden expression and Jemma’s determined one, but she ultimately nodded without saying a word, turning back to continue on with the others.

Jemma took a few steps back until she was beside Fitz, gently grasping his arm and pulling him to a stop on the sidewalk (not that he’d been walking all that fast in the first place). “Can we talk a moment?” she asked.

Fitz raised his head slightly to cast a glance in the direction of their team, getting further and further away as they approached the diner that was now within sight. Halfheartedly, he replied, “We should go join them; we don’t know when they’ll come for us.”

“This will only take a moment,” she promised, though her tone left no room for arguments. It was a tone that she knew he was intimately familiar with, one that he’d no doubt heard many, many times over the years. Thankfully, he seemed to register it, and nodded silently in understanding. Steadying herself, Jemma then started, “I know a lot has happened, and there are so many things that I wish you hadn’t gone through, things that I wish I could’ve protected you from –”

Fitz stopped her there, before she could really even get to the heart of the matter, shaking his head and his eyes wide with incredulousness as he corrected quickly, “If anyone should’ve been protected, it was _you_. I’m supposed to protect you, Jemma, and…and all I did was hurt you, nearly…I nearly _killed_ you, and I’ll never forgive myself. _Never_.”

Shaking her head fiercely, Jemma told him firmly, “Fitz, that’s what you need to understand, that there’s nothing _to_ forgive. Whatever the Doctor did in the Framework, whatever kind of awful person AIDA twisted him into to suit her own needs, that wasn’t _you_ ; you were just as trapped inside the Framework as anyone else. If one of our friends had done the same things as the Doctor did, would you blame them?”

He shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet her eyes as he muttered, “It isn’t the same thing; it _wasn’t_ them, it was me. _I_ did those things.”

Jemma felt a lick of frustration then at not being able to get through to him (and wasn’t that so familiar? Being frustrated with Fitz was a trademark of their years-long friendship, but it’d never been quite this acute, quite so tinged with desperation). However, she pushed the feeling down, as the very last thing she wanted then was to fight with him – they’d had more than enough of being at odds, of being separated by things beyond their control, that they didn’t need any more, couldn’t afford any more.

So, instead, she slowly reached out to find his hand with hers, giving him time to pull away or to stop her. But, he only turned his head slightly to watch as her fingers curled around his, and Jemma couldn’t help but breathe a silent sigh of relief at the comforting touch of his skin on hers, something that she’d become used to and almost reliant on in the time that they’d been in a romantic relationship (though it had always been something of a comfort to her, even before).

Softly, Jemma reminded him, “Fitz, I’ve always trusted your judgment, trusted your opinion, and trusted you to be my second pair of eyes – do you not trust me in the same way?”

Hastily, Fitz lifted his head to stare at her in horror, his lips parted and his eyes rounded. “I do! I’ve always trusted you implicitly, Jemma.”

She allowed the tiniest of smiles to slip through, a bit of tension in her shoulders released at the confirmation. Lovingly stroking her thumb along the curves of his knuckles, she asked, “Why do you not trust that you’re not a bad person, then?” Immediately, his frown returned and he dropped his gaze once more to the sidewalk between them, but she pressed on, “I’ve known you since we were sixteen, Fitz. I’ve spent over a decade memorizing you, studying you, becoming an expert on everything that is Leopold Fitz.”

She watched him carefully for some kind of a reaction, something, _anything_ , but other than his shoulders tensing and his hand trembling just barely noticeably within her grip, there was nothing. Fortunately, though, she wasn’t finished quite yet.

“Sure,” she went on with a quiet chuckle, “you can be grumpy when you’re hungry, and you never seem to remember what a hamper’s for. You’re an absolute whiny _terror_ when you’re sick, and you’ll never admit when I’m right, even when we both know that I am. You snore sometimes, and you forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste when you’re in a hurry because you’re late to work yet _again_ , but…”

Pausing there, Jemma lifted her free hand to cup his cheek in her palm, gently urging him to look up at her so that she could see the glaze of unshed tears standing in his eyes.

Scuffing her thumb along the prickly skin of his unshaven skin, she continued, “None of that makes you bad person, not even in the least; they’re just parts of what make up the man that I love, the man that I have loved for almost half my life now, the man that I’ve always known was where my future lay.” With a knowing smile, she finished, “If you trust me, as you insist that you do, then can you trust that I know who you really are, that I know your head and your heart as though they’re my own? That I’m making the right, completely informed decision in wanting to spend the rest of my life with you? That I know you’re a good man, the most kindhearted and loving person that I’ve ever known?”

Fitz breathed out a shallow, shaky breath, briefly closing his eyes before finally meeting hers unwaveringly. In a low, hoarse voice, he said, “I trust you, Jemma, _god_ of course I do. But…I just don’t…I can’t trust myself. Not after…”

Taking a half-step closer, Jemma lightly tugged Fitz down to rest his forehead against hers as she murmured, “That’s enough for now, Fitz. I’ll help you as much as I can, to help you learn to trust yourself again. I will be there every step of the way, by your side. But, that you trust me to know and trust _you_ is enough for now; we’ll figure the rest out later. _Together_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	63. Mid-Season One - Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written likely sometime a few years ago, not long after I started watching the show, and set sometime mid-Season One (I consider it to be AU-ish).

“Okay, next question…” Skye trailed off, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she reached for the bowl of popcorn between them on the bed. She had insisted on a “girl’s night”, and when she’d tried to propose a game of Truth or Dare, Jemma had gently reminded her that there weren’t many dares they could carry out on the Bus that wouldn’t end with them on the receiving end of one of May’s terrifying glares. So, they’d simply stuck to the “Truth” part of the game, and so far the questions had been pretty tame – Jemma was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Hmm…” Tapping a finger against her chin as she chewed her handful of popcorn, Skye’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! I’ve got it! Have you ever kissed Fitz?”

And there it was.

“Oh! Um…” Nervously, Jemma played with a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail, twisting it around her finger. “Well…I’m afraid the answer to that question is rather…complicated.”

Skye stared blankly at Jemma for a moment, then she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Um, no it’s not. Either you’ve kissed or you haven’t, it’s a simple question.” Then, with a smirk, she tacked on, “Oh, and if the answer is yes, I’m _definitely_ going to need details.”

Anxiously wringing her hands in her lap, Jemma let out a long, slow exhale, then launched into the honestly complicated answer to what was supposedly a simple question. “Well, during our third year at Sci-Ops, Fitz and I attended a party one of our colleagues was throwing, and we got rather…inebriated. What I remember of that night is spotty at best, and honestly, half the memories I have couldn’t possibly be real. Yes, I remember something like grabbing Fitz once we returned to our flat and kissing him, but I’m…well, I’m just not sure it actually happened. I woke up the next morning with a _wretched_ hangover, lying on the bathroom floor – Fitz was passed out in the kitchen. I never found the courage to ask him what he remembered from that night, so I can’t definitively answer yes or no.”

For a long moment, Skye was quiet. Then, she shook her head slowly, holding up a hand in the universal gesture for ‘stop’. “Hold up Simmons, there’s _so_ much about this that needs to be discussed. Like the fact that you and Fitz _lived together_?!”

Jemma raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, you didn’t know that?” When Skye shook her head, giving Jemma a look, she simply shrugged. “Well, it just made things easier. We were partners and planned to stay partners, and we didn’t have to pay two separate rents.”

“Most boring explanation ever,” Skye sighed, sounding truly disappointed. “Okay, second, _why_ exactly would it have been such a big deal if you and Fitz did kiss? Why did you need ‘courage’ to ask him about it? Friends kiss when they’re drunk all the time, I mean it’s practically a rite of passage, Simmons.”

Not quite sure of the answer to the oddly unsettling question herself, Jemma shrugged again. “I don’t know, I suppose I was just afraid of it affecting our friendship somehow. We’ve always been so close, and he’s my best friend, I didn’t want to know if a kiss could change everything.”

“Would it change anything now if you were to find out whether it actually happened or not?”

Jemma took a moment to mull the question over, biting at her lip absently. After a moment, she answered slowly and hesitantly, “I…I suppose not.”

“Alright then.” Skye jumped up from the bed, heading for the door.

Surprised, Jemma scrambled up from the bed as well, hurrying after Skye, who was already out of the room and heading across the corridor with purpose. “Skye, what are you doing?”

“Finding out! You may not be curious enough to bother with it, but _I_ am.” With that, Skye knocked on Fitz’s door. “Open up Fitz, Simmons and I have a question!”

It took a moment, but then Fitz’s door slid open and he stood in the doorframe, his hair sleep-rumbled and his eyes half shut as he rubbed at them, stifling a yawn. “What is it? I was sleeping.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, it’ll only take a minute.” Skye forced her way past Fitz into the room, sitting down on the edge of his bed, and Jemma had no choice but to follow. When her gaze met Fitz’s and she caught his confused expression, she attempted to give him an encouraging smile, but she was sure it fell flat when she saw his confusion turn to concern.

Jemma was going to stay standing and allow Fitz the small space left on his bed next to Skye, but then she was being tugged down by the other woman, flopping unceremoniously onto Fitz’s unkempt sheets. Fitz stood in front of them, leaning back against the wall. “Alright, what is so important you had to wake me from my peaceful slumber?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Simmons and I were having a girl’s night, you know, pillow fights and doing each other’s hair and all,” Skye started, and Jemma noticed Fitz’s eyebrows dart up a bit at the explanation, looking to her in surprise, “and during a rousing game of Truth Without the Dare, I asked Simmons if she’d ever kissed you.”

The expression that took over Fitz’s face was an odd mixture of something like panic and resignation. “Oh?” He was obviously trying to keep calm, but his voice was an octave too high. Immediately, Jemma realized that he knew something.

Clearly having noticed the same thing, Skye narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yeah. And she told me she didn’t know, then proceeded to inform me of a night where you guys got smashed at a party, went back home, and she _thinks_ she remembers laying one on you, but isn’t sure it’s for real. Do you have a different account of that night you’d like to share?”

Fitz cleared his throat, his gaze darting around the room as though he was avoiding making eye contact with either of them. “And which night is it that we’re talking about?”

“Agent Elliot’s party our third year at Sci-Ops,” Jemma answered quietly, gazing at Fitz searchingly. If he remembered something, why hadn’t he told her sooner? Of course, she hadn’t said anything either, but still…

“ _Ah_ , yes, Agent Elliot’s party.” Clearing his throat one more time, Fitz dropped his gaze to watch his fingers playing with the fraying hem of his old Academy t-shirt.

Giving a groan of clear exasperation, Skye snapped, “Get on with it, Fitz!”

“Well…I remember doing quite a bit of drinking. We’d just finished our latest version of the DWARFs and were indulging in a bit of celebration. Um…things got a bit hazy after awhile, but I remember leaving and walking back to our flat. Our neighbor, the delightful Mrs. Walton, was out walking her dog and she called us no-good, booze-drinking hooligans.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Jemma cut in, shaking her head at the memory. “Oh Mrs. Walton. Such a dear old woman.”

“ _And_?” Skye prodded impatiently.

“ _And_ ,” Fitz went on, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes at Skye, “I couldn’t find my key, I think, and then Simmons remembered that she left her purse at Elliot’s house. So, um…”

As he was saying the words, Jemma remembered the exact moment, her face heating in a blush. It was one of the things she’d been sure hadn’t actually happened, but now, not quite as sure, she asked hesitantly, “Did we crawl through the window?”

Fitz flushed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Uh…yeah. The one you were always yelling at me to keep closed, but it helped us get back in so at least there’s that, yeah?”

Skye let out an amused snort. “Oh my god, I _wish_ I had seen that! Drunk Fitzsimmons crawling through a window? Must’ve been _priceless_.” Leaning forward excitedly, Skye waggled her eyebrows at Fitz, but it was a wasted effort, given that he still refused to look at either of them. “And then, once you were inside, Simmons jumped you, didn’t she?!”

“Er…no. She wanted to make cookies.”

Another hazy, unreal memory floated to the forefront of Jemma’s brain, and she groaned into her hands. “Oh my god, we tried to make cookies, didn’t we? But we almost burned them, and I tried to eat one anyway and started crying.”

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Fitz answered, giving her a weak smile. “So, I found some Oreos I’d stashed in my room and we ate those.” Wincing, he lowered his gaze back to the ground, where he was scuffing his foot against the carpet. “And when there was one left, you told me that if I gave it to you…you’d, um…” He lowered his voice, and his next words were barely audible.

“What was that?” Skye asked loudly. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

Sighing in resignation, Fitz repeated a bit more clearly, “You said you’d kiss me for it.”

Jemma felt her face heating and her stomach tying itself in knots as she finally got her answer – she’d actually kissed him. After all these years, she knew with absolute certainty that she’d kissed her best friend before, even if she barely remembered it.

“So…I agreed,” Fitz admitted, though he sounded so sad and ashamed of himself. “And…er…so you…um…kissed me.”

“ _Yes_!” Skye cried, jumping up from the bed so quickly that she startled both Fitz and Jemma. “I just _knew_ you guys couldn’t have been friends as long as you have been and not have kissed before! I _so_ knew it!” When only silence followed her statement, she paused, glancing back and forth between them. Seeming to pick up on the sudden tense atmosphere, she cleared her throat and inched toward the door. “And…now that that’s settled, I’ll leave you two to…do whatever it is you do. I had fun Simmons, we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

And with that, Skye disappeared, shutting the door behind her and leaving Fitz to stare at the floor and Jemma to stare at Fitz.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked softly, careful to keep any accusation out of her tone. She certainly didn’t blame him, especially given how badly he seemed to feel about it.

Fitz shrugged expressively. “I don’t know. I mean, you’d had more to drink than me, and if I barely remembered parts of it, I figured that you must remember even less. There…well, I guess there just never seemed like a good reason to bring it up.”

“Oh.”

It was quiet for another moment before Fitz braved a look up to meet her gaze. “I want you to know that nothing more than…um…kissing occurred. After a couple minutes, you pulled away and ran for the bathroom, and I’m sure you can guess how the rest of your night went.”

Making a face, Jemma nodded in agreement. “Oh yes, the taste in my mouth the next morning was more than enough to tell that part of the story.” Standing from the bed, Jemma placed a hand on his arm and told him, “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Yeah sure.” He shrugged off her thanks, giving her a small smile.

“I have just one question though.” Fitz raised an eyebrow curiously, nodding for her to go on. “I could swear that we made an absolute mess of the kitchen, yet it was perfectly pristine the next morning, just how I left it.”

Fitz’s cheeks colored with a blush, and when he dipped his head, Jemma noticed that the tips of his ears were reddened as well. “Oh, that. Yeah, it was a mess, but…well, while you were puking your guts out, I set to cleaning up so you wouldn’t have to do it with the wicked hangover you’d have the next morning. I…er…ended up passing out right there in the kitchen after I finished up.”

For a moment, all Jemma could do was stare at Fitz in stunned surprise. When he glanced up at her, obviously looking for whatever her reaction to the news was, she was filled with a burst of affection for her best friend. “Oh _Fitz_.” Shaking her head at him, she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. When she pulled back, she gave him a warm smile before opening the door and letting herself out of his bunk with a soft, “Goodnight Fitz.”

It was only once she’d returned to her own bunk and gotten in bed that she found herself staring up through the dark at the ceiling, remembering what she now knew was the very real experience of having Fitz’s lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth and his hands gripping her waist.

Automatically, her hand rose to her face, her fingers brushing her lips as what was now only a phantom sensation tingled across them. Then, Jemma shook her head at herself, lowering her hand back to the mattress. _You only think it was good because you can’t remember otherwise!_ she scolded herself, rolling her eyes at the very idea of _enjoying_ kissing Fitz – she was so drunk she likely would’ve enjoyed kissing old Mrs. Walton just as much!

Jemma pointedly chose to ignore the part of her brain (which sounded suspiciously like Skye – she’d just assume from now on that this was where the thoughts of bad girl shenanigans resided in her mind) that was attempting to goad her into proving that she wouldn’t enjoy it as much sober.

Really, the very idea was ridiculous. Fitz was just her best friend, and that’s all she’d ever thought of him as, drunken kisses and adorable sleep-rumbled hair and thoughtful cleaning notwithstanding.

Still, Jemma found herself spending the majority of the night tossing and turning, unable to get the idea of waltzing into Fitz’s bunk and kissing him breathless out of her suddenly traitorous mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	64. Maternity Clothes Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @hemnalini on tumblr: "could you write fs going maternity clothes shopping?"

With a muffled groan of exertion, Jemma tugged on either side of her shirt, trying to force them close enough to do up the buttons over her growing stomach. But, the material simply refused to give anymore, leaving an inch of bare skin still exposed down the center of her torso.

“I think it’s time to admit defeat, Jem.”

Huffing out a breath, Jemma finally gave up on the shirt and allowed it to settle around the soft curve of her baby bump. Turning to face her amused husband where he was leaning up against the doorframe of their bedroom and had obviously been watching her struggle, she sighed, “I suppose you’re right – but, at least I made it almost five months before I had to buy new clothes.”

“How you can even make being _pregnant_ competitive, I’ll never know.” Fitz shook his head, an unbearably fond smile tugging at his lips that Jemma couldn’t help but return. “Alright, see if you can find something that still fits, and we’ll head out right now and pick you up some new things before you have no options left.”

“Well, I’ll always have the option of _not_ wearing a shirt,” Jemma shot back teasingly, even as she threw a contemplative look at her side of their opened closet.

“Much as I’d love that, I don’t think it’s appropriate in most social situations.”

“Shame.”

“It truly is.”

With a little smile, Jemma finally laid eyes on the perfect item of clothing, stepping forward into the closet to grasp a faded old MIT t-shirt that had belonged to Fitz when he was a teenager (though it had belonged to her instead for many, many years by now). After struggling back _out_ of her other shirt, she tugged the MIT shirt over her head and settled it with a little more ease over her stomach, though the more stretchy material was still pulled a bit taut – Fitz had been quite small and skinny back when he’d attended MIT, after all.

“ _Aww_ would you look at that, my wife and child supporting my alma mater, how sweet,” Fitz teased, causing Jemma to throw a dry look in his direction. “Y’know, maybe someday our baby will be attending MIT themselves.”

“Well,” Jemma replied offhandedly as she grabbed her purse off of the dresser, “Harvard is one ranking higher in biology programs, so I really don’t see that happening, to tell you the truth.”

They’d been (playfully, of course) having this argument roughly since she’d first found out she was pregnant. The very last thing they were planning on doing was _forcing_ their child to take an interest in science, let alone pushing them toward either one of their specialties. In fact, they’d even had multiple discussions about encouraging any and all interests their child would have, whether they were related to science or not.

However, after years of bantering back and forth about whose area of science was superior, ever since the Academy, it was a bit difficult _not_ to turn it into a little competition – after all, there was a chance, however slight, that their baby could end up being a deciding factor (but regardless, it was all in good fun).

Fitz gave a playful little scoff and retorted, “Oh yeah? Well, we’ll just have to see about that.”

-

“So, where d’you want to start?”

Glancing around the quite well-stocked maternity section of the department store they’d chosen, Jemma frowned in thought before answering, “Well, given that I’m going to be pregnant during the summer months, dresses are a must. Though, I should invest in at least one pair of jeans, since I’ve only been able to wear leggings for weeks now. And, of course, I’ll need some lighter shirts.”

Fitz’s lips pulled down into a slight grimace as his gaze darted around the racks of clothes surrounding them as well, then he gave an awkward little chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll let you get to it, then.”

Jemma rolled her eyes fondly as she headed for a nearby rack of dresses to leaf through. Fitz may have been her best friend (and for lengthy stretches of time over the years, her only friend), but it was times like these that she was reminded of the fact that he couldn’t fill _all_ of the spots a female best friend would. After all, he’d never been a fan of clothes shopping, and had always had rather atrocious style himself, though she did have to admit that it had certainly improved quite a bit in recent years.

Briefly, she lost track of him as he disappeared from her side, but it wasn’t long before he was returning with an armload of shirts and snickering to himself. Arching an eyebrow, Jemma turned from a cute little sleeveless dress she’d been considering to eye him wordlessly, waiting for him to fill her in on whatever it was that had him so amused in the _maternity_ section.

“Okay,” he started, raising his eyebrows and holding up his free hand, “just try and tell me that these aren’t the greatest things that you’ve ever seen.” He then proceeded to show her several graphic t-shirts that he’d obviously found on a different rack nearby, all stamped with witty pregnancy jokes, pictures, or sayings on them. Fitz’s personal favorite seemed to be one that had a progress bar right along the stomach of the shirt, with “Loading…Please Wait” written beneath it, something that he seemed to find hilarious.

“Ugh _Fitz_ ,” Jemma sighed warmly, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile, even as she told him firmly, “I’m _not_ wearing those.” Then, with a little shake of her head, she mused, “You know, I’m beginning to feel as though I’m having _two_ kids, rather than just the one.”

“But _Jemma_ ,” Fitz insisted, shaking the shirts at her and widening his eyes in disbelief, “they’re _funny_!”

Turning back to the rack of dresses that she’d been looking through, Jemma shot back dryly, “Well, pregnancy may be a joke to you, but I’m not finding the constant need to pee, aching feet, aching body in _general_ , weight gain, constant exhaustion, hormone change, and many, many other changes that come with it very funny.” However, when a glance up revealed Fitz looking properly chastised, she relented with a quiet sigh, “Fine, I will wear _one_ , so you had better choose wisely.”

Predictably, Fitz brightened right back up, and was quick to select the “loading” one, just as she’d expected that he would. “Trust me,” he said, handing the shirt over to her as he moved to return the others to where he’d found them, “that’s gonna become your favorite shirt, I just know it.”

Jemma wasn’t as sure, but she didn’t say as much to Fitz, figuring that she’d just let him have this (for now, at least).

Once she’d selected a good amount of potential clothing items, she went into the nearby dressing rooms to try a handful of them on, just to get an idea of which styles suited her growing bump the best. She directed Fitz to sit in one of the plastic chairs situated just outside the rooms, and handed him the rest of her things to hold for her.

However, she hadn’t even been in her selected dressing room for very long before she was shifting this way and that in front of the full-length mirror in the her first potential dress. Unfortunately for her, though, none of the changing angles seemed to help the image she was seeing in the mirror in the slightest.

Finally having had enough, Jemma gave a groan of surrender, unlocked and pulled open the door. Peering out into the narrow hallway, she then gestured for Fitz to come inside with her. He hesitated, though, peering around the corner into what was clearly the _women’s_ dressing rooms and asking unsurely, “Is…is that allowed?”

Giving a rather exaggerated roll of her eyes paired with a sharp, “Ugh _Fitz_ ,” she waved her hand a bit more persistently and said, “Just come here!” Not needing to hear it twice, Fitz gathered up their things and hurried over, stepping into the cramped little room with her. Once they’d managed to get the door closed behind them, she asked him seriously, “Tell me honestly, do I look completely awful in this dress? Because I _know_ I’m pregnant, I truly do, it’s just…” Turning back to the mirror and making a face, she finished in defeat, “It just looks like I’m hiding a beach ball under my dress or something, not carrying a child. I know, I’m being silly, but…” Trailing off, she instead finished her sentence by flapping a hand, wordlessly indicating the hormones in her body that were now far out of her control. 

When her admission was met with silence, Jemma turned back around curiously to find Fitz gaping at her in clear disbelief. After a moment, though, he shook his head, then assured her fiercely, “ _Of course_ that’s not true; you look beautiful, Jemma.” Carefully scooting past her to set the items in his arms down on the little stool in the corner of the room, he grasped her shoulders and gently turned her around to face the mirror once more. “When I look at you, I see the most beautiful, incredible, brilliant, amazing woman in the world – and, you’re carrying our _baby_ , which makes me happier than I’ve ever been. Looking at you, I’m just…I’m in awe of you, and in this dress… _Christ_ , you’re gorgeous.”

A pleasant little flush was burning its way across Jemma’s cheeks, which she could see in her reflection were slowly pinking. Despite his impassioned words, though, she still had to ask with a doubt that she’d never truly had when it came to her appearance, “Are you sure? Because I know that some women just take naturally to pregnancy, but what if it turns out that I’m not one of them? What if –”

“There’s no way,” Fitz cut in to inform her, giving a firm shake of his head as he reached around her to lovingly cup her bulging stomach. “I mean, just look at you, a right pregnancy _pro_ , and you’re only halfway into your first one. You make it look effortless, Jem, just like everything else that you do.”

A powerful burst of affection for her best friend and husband surged through Jemma then; Fitz may not _always_ have the right words at the right moment, but he certainly seemed to find them when she needed them the most, and she absolutely loved him for it. Smiling warmly, she turned around in the circle of his arms, looping her own around his neck as she murmured, “Thank you, Fitz.”

He returned her smile with a relieved little grin of his own, shrugging one shoulder slightly. “S’all part of my job.”

-

A little later, as she and Fitz were dropping armloads of bags onto the floor of their bedroom, Jemma couldn’t help but lament with a sigh, “I can’t believe that we spent all that money on clothes that I’m only going to be wearing for a handful of months.” Even though she was well aware that it was a necessary purchase, it still seemed like a bit of a waste.

Fitz was busying himself with emptying the contents of the bags onto their bed, clearly well aware of the fact that Jemma would want to sort through everything before it went into wash (oh, how she loved this wonderful, thoughtful man). Offhandedly, he replied optimistically, “At least this way you’ll already have things to wear for next time.”

Almost immediately, a tense silence descended upon the room in the wake of his statement, both them freezing for the space of a moment. At the same time, though, they turned to look at each other, and she could see that Fitz’s eyes were rounded and his mouth was hanging open in obvious horror with himself.

But, regaining her bearings and pressing her lips together to hide her smile, Jemma simply told him wryly, “Let’s get through this one first, then we’ll talk, alright?”

Fitz’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he even let out a little chuckle as he replied, “Yeah, okay, I think I can agree with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	65. Season 2 AU - Cliffhanger (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel/Second Part to the Season 2 AU in ch 41

Fitz woke with a start, gasping sharply as he sprung upright in what appeared to be a bed in the med bay of the Playground – so, definitely not the murky water below the cliff he’d fallen from. Which begged the question; how had he gotten there?

The last thing that he remembered was hanging onto the edge of the cliff, Jemma above him with tears in her eyes as rain beat down on them. He remembered letting go, but then… _nothing_ , not falling, or hitting the water, just darkness.

Concentrating on slowing his racing heart and quickened breathing, Fitz sagged back against the pillows on the bed as he searched his mind for any kind of answer – there wasn’t even a single ache in his body, how was that possible after falling from a _cliff_?

However, there wasn’t a single answer to be found; after letting go of the cliff, his mind was simply a blank.

“ _Fitz_!”

At the gasp of his name, Fitz glanced up to find the door to his room had opened without his notice, and Skye was now standing in the doorway, looking teary-eyed and utterly relieved at the sight of him awake and sitting up. “Wha-what happened?” he asked in a croaky, underused voice.

Skye sniffled, stepping into the room and taking the seat positioned beside his bed. “Do you remember going to the castle?” When he nodded, she went on, “And how the lab exploded?” She winced as she spoke the words, clearly still feeling guilty for seemingly causing the explosion in the first place.

“Yeah…it wasn’t your…you didn’t do anything, okay?”

She gave him a weak smile, nodding and wiping away one of the tears that had escaped. “Okay,” she whispered in agreement, even though he was sure she still didn’t quite believe it. “Well, after you did something super _dumb_ and dropped to your death, I tried my best to…well, my intention was to cushion your fall, or at least ease it a bit so that you wouldn’t hit the water so hard.”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he sat up a bit straighter as he asked disbelievingly, “With…your _powers_?”

Skye nodded, chewing her bottom lip as she shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, I mean…I couldn’t just stand there and watch you _die_ , and it was the only thing that I could think of at the time. I think it worked because, well, if it hadn’t then we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation. But…it was also really dark and rainy and I couldn’t see and…um…I think I kind of knocked you unconscious?” She winced, offering him an apologetic smile. “I’m really sorry! I didn’t _mean_ for –”

“I know,” he assured her quickly, giving her an understanding smile. “But…how am I…” He gestured to the room around him, and his seemingly undamaged body. If he’d hit been knocked unconscious before he ever hit the water, how had he not drowned?

“Ah, well, that’s where things get interesting,” Skye admitted.

Fitz couldn’t help his dry snort of amusement. “They weren’t already?”

She chuckled, shooting him a look as she said firmly, “Oh, just _wait_. You see, Simmons had called for the quinjet as soon as we’d lost sight of you, and she was _freaking out_ , Fitz. Like seriously, I’ve never seen her lose her cool like that.”

Fitz figured that Skye was exaggerating a bit for dramatic effect – sure, he knew Jemma would’ve been scared to not know what had happened, and would no doubt have felt powerless to help while stuck up on the cliff like she had been. But, she was also notoriously skilled at keeping her calm under pressure; he’d witnessed and counted on it many a time before.

Widening her eyes and leaning in, Skye went on in a hushed voice, “After a couple of moments, she got tired of waiting, and decided to _jump after you_! Well, with my assistance, of course.”

“That’s…” Fitz shook his head rapidly, holding up a hand to stop Skye there. “ _Impossible_. Quit it, Skye, and…be serious, alright?”

“I am being serious!” Skye insisted, waving her hands about, as though trying to get Fitz to understand the gravity of her words. “Simmons really did follow after you, and I helped ease her fall – it was easier the second time, actually. Fitz, I really think I can get these powers under control if I can just practice…” She trailed off, clearing her throat embarrassedly. “ _But_ , that’s not the point right now. _Anyway_ , after she hit the water, I guess Simmons must’ve found you, even in the dark, and kept you both afloat until you could be rescued.”

He was feeling slightly unsure now, given Skye’s confident insistence, but things still weren’t quite adding up. “Simmons wouldn’t…she doesn’t _trust_ your powers.”

“I _know_ ,” Skye agreed, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “But apparently, when it comes to you…all bets are off.”

Before Fitz could even begin to form a response to that, they both looked up at the sound of a light knock on the doorframe. Jemma was lingering there in the doorway, a subdued smile on her face and her eyes focused anywhere but on his face, clearly avoiding his gaze.

Rising quickly from her seat, Skye headed toward the door as she said pointedly, “I’ll give you guys a moment.”

Jemma entered the room then, closing the door softly behind her and sitting primly in the chair that Skye had abandoned. Silence fell between them for a long, tense moment, before Fitz figured that this was as good a time as any to just ask her outright about Skye’s claims. As he opened his mouth to do just that, however, she suddenly hissed, “I can’t believe that you would do that _again_. How could you be so selfish, so foolish? With what you’ve already put me through, to go and do _this_ …”

He’d been too taken aback to say anything at first, but with those last few words, his shock was overshadowed by the way he simply couldn’t stay silent any longer. “What _you_ ’ _ve_ been put through? Everything…I did all of it to make sure…it was for you to _live_!”

Scoffing, she finally raised her watery, narrowed eyes to meet his as she snapped, “Yes, without _you_.” Floored, Fitz found himself unable to respond to that, so Jemma simply continued, “You’ve never asked how your _self-sacrifices_ affect me, never asked whether I even _wanted_ you to do it – I said that I couldn’t live if you didn’t either, didn’t I? Why didn’t you just listen to me, Fitz?”

For a moment, he could only mouth wordlessly, unable to believe that after months of awkward silence and avoiding their problems, they were _finally_ talking about everything. The thing was, though, that he wasn’t sure that he was ready; after all, he didn’t think that he could handle hearing her confirm that she’d left because he wasn’t the man that he used to be, because she couldn’t stand to be around him anymore when he was… _like this_.

But, there wasn’t much he could do about either, was there? Jemma seemed bound and determined to hash things out right this moment, to reprimand him for trying to _save her life_ , and even though he’d rather but this whole conversation off a bit longer, he’d be damned before he was ever made to feel bad for trying to make sure that she lived.

 “It…I did it because…you’re more –” Fitz tried his best to get the words of his original confession out, figuring that he’d already admitted to his feelings twice now while believing that he was about to die – it couldn’t be _that_ awful mentioning them when he wasn’t on his deathbed.

Jemma wouldn’t let him finish, however, shaking her head as she told him firmly, “That’s no excuse. You don’t get to say that you _love_ me and then die – that’s just not how this works, and I want you to _stop it_ already.”

In response to her anger, Fitz could feel his own irritation beginning to stir in his chest. “Oh, so now you’re mad at me for…for _saving your life_? Ap-apparently I really _can’t_ do anything right anymore.”

Groaning in frustration, she gave another fierce shake of her head, seemingly ignoring the tears now rolling steadily down her cheeks. “Fitz, it’s not…it isn’t _wrong_ , okay? I’d do the exact same thing in your place, but…but I know that doing so would be _selfish_ , just as…just as your decisions were.”

“I…I don’t…” Fitz gazed imploringly at her, his anger fading a bit at her surprising admission that she’d do the same thing in his place. He wasn’t sure if it was due to either one of his head injuries (past or most recent), or just Jemma, but he was finding it rather difficult to follow the line of this conversation.

Sighing softly, Jemma dropped her gaze to watch her hands as they wrung together in her lap. “Your words in the pod…they were ‘I couldn’t live if you didn’t’ – _that_ was the reason you gave for saving my life, not wanting to live in a world without me.” Her bottom lip trembled as a fresh round of tears spilled over onto her already moistened skin. “I don’t want to live in a world without you either, Fitz, and it’s _selfish_ of me to want you to stay alive for my own sake. I know…perhaps have always known that you’re my weakness, that the only time that I allow myself to be selfish is when it comes to you.” A sad smile quirked her lips as she lifted her gaze back to his, and admitted, “And that’s what made leaving for HYDRA so difficult.”

Slowly shaking his head in something between awe and confusion (and perhaps a bit of trepidation), Fitz asked gently, “What…what are you talking about?”

“Fitz, all I wanted was to stay with you, to help you, but…I couldn’t allow myself to be selfish any longer, not when my presence was hurting your ability to heal properly. I had to put you first, and realize that what you needed the most wasn’t _me_ , but distance, time away from me. _That’s_ why I left, Fitz, not because of what happened to you or what you said to me in the pod, or whatever likely justified reason that you’ve come up with in my absence of an explanation.

“I’m so sorry that I ever had to lie to you, but it was _for_ you, and I don’t regret doing it. I’ll never regret putting you first.” Releasing a quiet sigh, she added lowly, “I just want you to do the same sometimes and put yourself first, because you’re _so_ important, Fitz, and I…I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.” As soon as she’d finished speaking, a majority of the tension in her shoulders seemed to drain right out of her, the truth that she’d been carrying inside for too long finally released.

In the space of a few moments, Fitz felt as though his entire world had shifted (again), and suddenly it all made so much _sense_ – he’d wondered for so long what had happened to Jemma, why she was treating him differently and lying to him and just up and leaving him as though it was nothing. But _of course_ she’d do all of that if she’d thought that it would help him; it was such a _Jemma_ thing to do.

Why hadn’t that ever occurred to him before now?

And then, Fitz felt his eyes growing wide as the truth of Skye’s claims hit him. In barely more than a hoarse whisper, he stated aloud, “Skye wasn’t lying; you _did_ jump after me.”

Jemma gave a guilty little smile, reaching up to attempt to brush away the tears on her face as she shrugged. “It was the only thing that I could think to do. I wasn’t giving up on you without a fight, after all.” Her smile faded as she sighed, and admitted, “That’s something that I should’ve been doing since returning from HYDRA – fighting for you. But I was just…I was so afraid that you didn’t want to be around me anymore, that you wouldn’t be able to forgive me, and I couldn’t bear it so I just…stayed away. It was the wrong decision, of course, and I’m very sorry for that as well.”

Fitz reached out to find her hand where she’d settled it on the edge of his bed, giving her hand a brief squeeze. “I could probably forgive you for…well, just about anything. You didn’t…you never had to fight for me, Jemma. I’ve…I mean, I’ve been a right arse lately and a _blind_ one too. I’m just…I’m sorry, ‘specially for how I…the way I was to you.”

Giving a little shake of her head, Jemma assured him, “That’s in the past. Truthfully, I’m just grateful that you’re alright.”

Chuckling, Fitz gave her hand a little nudge as he said quietly, “Thanks t’you – _again_.”

She laughed softly, a light blush coloring her cheeks as she lifted a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You had better remember that the next time you decide to be a self-sacrificing fool, then, because I’m not about to let you get away with it.”

They shared a smile then, and Fitz asked uncertainly, “Are we…okay?”

Jemma gave a small nod, finding his hand with hers once more and wrapping her cool fingers around his. “We are.”

Fitz felt a surge of relief at her confirmation, and perhaps even a little thankful for what had happened to lead them there; if he hadn’t fallen from that damn cliff, they’d likely still be in that strange limbo that they’d been in for months. Who knew how long it would’ve taken them to have this conversation then? He’d been afraid for so long now that the circumstances of his last near-death experience had been the end of his friendship with Jemma – maybe all he’d needed was another to set him straight.

But, hopefully in the future, it wouldn’t take as much to just get them to talk to each other and be _honest_ about how they were feeling. Fitz rather thought that they’d _both_ had enough near-death experiences to last a lifetime, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	66. Evelyn + First Time Getting Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @agl03 on tumblr: "Can I request one from baby Evie? First time she gets sick?"

A high-pitched cry broke through the quiet stillness of an average mid-morning in Perthshire, only to be followed closely by another, longer wail.

“Anything yet?”

Jemma glanced up from the parenting help books that she’d been leafing through at the dining room table with an increasing worry, finding Fitz still trying to rock Evelyn to sleep without success. She’d been like this since early that morning, waking both of her parents with a shrill cry that had had them up and out of bed in moments, despite the early hour. They’d tried changing her diaper, tried getting her back to sleep, and tried feeding her, but she wasn’t having any of it – and the unmistakable little coughs that she was giving between cries were reason enough to have them both on edge.

“It’s probably just a cold, but…” Jemma shrugged helplessly; she may have acted as their team’s doctor for many years, but she wasn’t _actually_ a medical professional. And, well, it seemed that the moment her eleven-month-old daughter’s heath came into question, she couldn’t be sure of _anything_.

“She does feel warm,” Fitz admitted, his lips tugging down into a grimace as he shifted Evelyn in his arms and cupped the back of her head with a hand, still doing his level best to soothe her.

“Does she?” Hurriedly, she got up from her chair at the table and moved to stand beside Fitz, pressing the backs of her fingers to Evelyn’s little forehead. She _did_ feel warmer than she should, and even though Jemma knew that she shouldn’t jump to conclusions, she couldn’t help the little jolt of anxiety that she felt at the confirmation.

After all, this was her _baby_ ; Evelyn depended on them (Jemma had always been quite aware that Evelyn was small and defenseless and dependent upon them, but in that moment, it was a stark reminder that left her feeling guilty and slightly nauseous), and there was something wrong with her that they just couldn’t seem to fix.

She _knew_ that it was most likely a small thing, just a little common cold, but…but that had never been their luck, had it? Not after trips to the bottom of the ocean and distant planets and virtual realities and space prisons had become their normal, everyday life.

So, Jemma carefully extracting a struggling, fussy Evelyn from Fitz’s arms, and told him efficiently, “Call Dr. Clark, then get the keys and my purse, and we’ll head over to get her opinion.” As he moved to follow her instructions, Jemma focused on gently trying to shush Evelyn, who was having none of it, and kissing the top of her head as she murmured, “We’ll sort this out, sweetheart. I promise, everything will be alright soon enough.”

-

After getting everything settled, they then made it to the pediatrician’s in record time – only to find themselves sitting in the little waiting room with framed pictures of giggling babies on the walls and old, mismatched toys sitting in the corner for an indefinite amount of time.

Jemma had Evelyn cuddled up against her chest, rocking her absently. She’d stopped actively crying and screaming, only giving little coughs here and there, but she was still visibly irritable, always looking moments away from breaking into another crying fit.

Fitz, on the other hand, was an unashamed wreck, constantly fidgeting in the seat beside her, tapping his foot and digging his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand, which seemed to be trembling just slightly. Frowning in concern, Jemma reached over with the hand not supporting Evelyn’s back, laying it over both of Fitz’s to still the movement.

With a calm in her voice that she didn’t really feel, she assured him, “Everything’s fine, Fitz. Babies get sick all the time, you know, it’s really nothing to lose our heads over.”

But, much in line with her own thinking, Fitz turned to face her fully and arched an eyebrow, deadpanning, “Jem, it’s _us_.”

“Well, alright, yes, but…” However, Jemma didn’t quite have an argument for that at the moment, and instead let her sentence hang there.

Fitz released a long, slow sigh that had his shoulders rising and falling, then he explained in a low, tight voice, “You know…every time I hear the word ‘sick’, I can only think of you and…” He trailed off then, his gaze going unfocused as he mumbled something under his breath, but Jemma only managed to catch, “…trapped on the other side of the glass…wasn’t able to _do_ anything…”

It was more than enough, though, to understand what had him so bothered.

As he let out another, shuddering sigh, Jemma gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and reminded him softly, “Fitz, that was a completely different situation – I know for a fact Evelyn hasn’t been around any Chitauri artifacts.” With a quiet laugh, she added teasingly, “Unless, of course, you have something to tell me about what you two do when I’m out.”

Instead of being comforted, though, Fitz simply gave her a bit of a look and replied, “Yeah, I _know_ she doesn’t have an alien virus Jemma, but there are still plenty of _human_ ones out there that scare the crap out of me.”

Knowing that neither of them would be truly comforted until they’d been told otherwise by a doctor, Jemma instead asked knowingly, “Do you want to hold her?” He nodded wordlessly, holding his hands out to receive Evelyn from her, and he visibly relaxed as soon as their daughter was in his arms and snuggled up against his chest.

Thankfully, not too much more time elapsed before they were called in by a nurse, and taken to an exam room, where they were soon joined by Evelyn’s pediatrician, Dr. Clark. As the kindly older woman examined a once more screaming Evelyn, Fitz was even antsier than he had been earlier, standing at Jemma’s side and watching on.

Neither of them, of course, was a fan of being unable to do anything to help someone, _especially_ when that someone was their child, but this _was_ to help Evelyn in the long run, so Jemma simply reached over to grasp Fitz’s hand, a gentle reminder that everything was okay.

Finally, Dr. Clark finished looking Evelyn over, and Fitz immediately stepped forward to take Evelyn back into his arms, working to soothe her yet again. Once they’d taken seats in the uncomfortable plastic chairs off to the side of the room, Dr. Clark explained with a warm smile, “Evelyn is just fine, she’s simply caught a common cold.”

All of the tension seemed to leave Jemma’s shoulders in an instant as she breathed an audible sigh of relief. She’d _known_ that it was most likely a cold (hadn’t she told herself that just an hour ago?), but she just hadn’t been able to stop herself from jumping to worst possible scenarios in her head, even while she’d attempted to remain outwardly calm in order to keep _Fitz_ calm. Hearing from a doctor that she trusted that Evelyn just had a cold was exactly what she’d needed.

“Have you been anywhere recently that was crowded?” Dr. Clark asked curiously, making a few notes on the little laptop she’d brought into the room with her. “That’s usually how babies end up catching colds, or, of course, if either of you have been sick in the past couple of weeks.”

Frowning, Jemma thought back for a moment, then shook her head and informed her, “No, we haven’t been to the park for awhile –”

“And Evie isn’t in daycare yet,” Fitz finished for her, and a glance at him showed that he was wearing a similarly confused frown.

But, they both seemed to realize something simultaneously in the next moment, gasping aloud and turning to look at each other as they cried in unison, “ _Daisy_!”

Their closest friend had been by their cottage just last week to see them (but mostly to see her goddaughter, who she doted on and adored more than both of them combined), and Jemma hadn’t even connected the dates at the time. But, it was just then that she remembered that it was the time of year they’d always referred to as “the plague” at the Playground, when everyone in the tight quarters seemed to get sick all at once.

They’d been away from SHIELD for what felt like so long now, the thought hadn’t even occurred to Jemma – if it had, she would’ve insisted that Daisy stay away until the illness had worked its way through her system.

Dr. Clark had arched an eyebrow at their outburst, and with a little flush, Jemma explained simply, “Our friend. She was by last week, and she may have been carrying the proper germs.”

“What do we need to do to get Evie better, then?” Fitz asked the doctor curiously, though Jemma could tell that he was listening intently and was ready to begin following the instructions as quickly as he could possibly manage.

“Keep her hydrated,” Dr. Clark began to list off, “try and make sure that she gets plenty of rest, and steam should do the trick to clear up her sinuses, which will help with her getting her appetite back. Her cold should clear up soon, but if her fever doesn’t go down or worsens, give us another call.”

After they’d both thanked the doctor profusely, they left the office with Evelyn, who was still sniffling and upset, clinging tightly to her father as they crossed the relatively crowded parking lot. Once they’d managed to wrangle Evelyn out of Fitz’s arms and into her car seat, Jemma and Fitz then got into the car themselves.

As they were pulling away, he said optimistically, “Hey, maybe this means that our bad luck skipped right over Evie, maybe it’ll just end with us.”

Jemma gave a short scoff, then laughed lightly and shook her head as she replied wryly, “It’s more like our ‘bad luck’ ended when we left SHIELD; of course the chances of otherworldly, strange things happening to us were much higher when we were working for an agency that makes otherworldly, strange things its business. I can’t imagine any of those things happening _now_.”

He chuckled a bit at that, admitting, “You’re probably right, Jem, but…I’m still hopeful that Evie won’t have it as hard as we did. I’m always hoping for the best for her, really.”

Smiling softly, Jemma turned her head to glance at him, agreeing in murmur, “I am too.” Then, after a moment, she added thoughtfully, “Which means that we should probably make sure that Daisy never comes by during the plague again.”

“Agreed,” Fitz said simply, nodding, before he went on hastily, “but it was your idea – you have to be the one to tell her.”

“Ugh _Fitz_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	67. Season 2 Missing Scene (ish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written quite some time ago, and could be considered a missing scene or a complete AU, however you want to view it.
> 
> *Set during Season 2, sometime around 2x08/2x09

As Fitz rubbed his hands together to no avail, he came to the realization that if he didn’t warm them up soon, he’d have blocks of ice rather than hands, and really, they were bad enough already – he didn’t need to add hypothermia to the list.

Switching to blowing on his freezing fingers instead, Fitz finally reached the kitchen and was already making a beeline for the tea kettle before he’d even realized that it was already heating up, or that Jemma was standing in front of it. “Oh.”

Surprised, Jemma spun to face him, and Fitz’s eyebrows darted up at the sight that greeted him. She was bundled up like she was about to go for a trek through the Arctic, gloves, a knit hat, and the scarf his mother had knitted her years ago added to her heavy winter jacket. Regardless, her cheeks and the tip of her nose were still rosy with the chill. “Oh, hello Fitz. Are you –” She suddenly cut herself off, her eyes widening. “What are you _doing_?! Are you _trying_ to freeze to death?!”

Bewildered, Fitz glanced down at his normal attire of jeans, a shirt, and a cardigan. “Well, I didn’t get the…the um, the memo about us taking a snow day.”

“The furnace is broken!” Shaking her head in exasperation, Jemma unwound her scarf and moved toward him with sudden intent.

“Hey, wait, you don’t have to –” Fitz backed away from Jemma, his hands held up in defense. She ignored him, grasping his shoulder with one hand so that she could loop the scarf around his neck with the other, shifting it around so that it covered his nose and mouth.

“There, now you stay here and I’ll be right back with a jacket and some gloves. Billy broke out the winter survival kits while Sam went to work on fixing the furnace. There should be something your size.” Nodding firmly, Jemma turned on her heel and left the kitchen without bothering to wait for a response from him.

“What the…?” Fitz mumbled to himself, staring at the place Jemma had just been in complete disbelief. The scarf was admittedly warm, not only because of his mother’s impressive knitting skills, but also from Jemma’s body heat. What bothered him (or, rather, what he wished fervently would bother him) was the fact that it smelled just like Jemma, as though she’d drowned the damn thing in her perfume, after sitting around her neck for who knows how long. It was driving him absolutely _crazy_.

The kettle began to whistle, so Fitz distracted himself from the scent clinging to the scarf by setting to making their tea. He made a bit of a mess pouring the water, but it was only because he could barely feel his hands they were so numb, not because he was having a bad day, so Fitz couldn’t be too upset about it. He’d just finished up with them when Jemma came bursting back in, laden with winter clothing articles.

“Alright, this jacket should only be a little big on you. They didn’t have your size, so it was either this or a size too small, and I know you hate mittens, but all the gloves were taken or much too small and keeping your hands warm is absolutely essential. Oh, and no complaining about the hat, alright? If your feet and head are warm, your whole body should stay nice and toasty,” Jemma rattled off, shoving her armload of clothing at him before accepting her tea with a small smile. “Thank you, Fitz.”

For a long moment, Fitz stared dumbly at the clothes in his arms, feeling his stomach do an odd little twist as he was reminded of just how well Jemma knew him. It was also leaving a warm feeling spreading through his chest that she cared enough to try and keep him from freezing, despite how strained things had been between them as of late.

He was snapped out of his reverie when Jemma made an impatient noise and gestured wordlessly for him to get a move on. Quickly, he shook off his thoughts and slipped into the jacket and mittens, only pausing to make a face at the hat with a stupid pom-pom on the top. Honestly, this was a government agency – what the hell were they doing with hats that had _pom-poms_? When he was properly dressed for the unexpected weather and already warming up, he told Jemma appreciatively, “Thanks.”

Now that she wasn’t able to distract herself with being a hovering mother hen, Jemma looked a bit more uncomfortable and wouldn’t exactly meet his eyes. “Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t need our resident engineer turning into a popsicle, do we?”

Fitz bit the inside of his cheek as he felt the frozen skin of his face begin to defrost with a rather heated blush, taking a long sip of his tea to give himself a moment before he had to answer. “Er…yeah.”

It was quiet for a moment, and he searched his mind for something to say desperately, but was coming up completely empty. There was a time when he’d had a million things to say to Jemma, and even if he didn’t, he’d always found the silences between them comfortable and companionable. But, those days were apparently long gone, and instead he found himself shifting awkwardly, focusing his attention on his tea.

After a long moment, Jemma cleared her throat and commented, “This kind of reminds me of that time we spent New Year’s at your mum’s and the power went out while she was out visiting a friend.”

Fitz perked up a bit at the memory, nodding enthusiastically in agreement. “Yeah, had to spend the whole night…sh…shivering under a mountain of blankets. But, well, uh…at least the lights are on, yeah?”

Jemma let out a little laugh, and Fitz absently thought that he didn’t need heat or winter clothes to keep warm as long as he could hear her laughing. “Definitely a plus.”

He was about to say something more, trying to prolong the tentative peace between them that felt so achingly familiar, but before he could get a word out, Mack stuck his head in through the doorway. “Hey Turbo, Koenig wants us to head down and take a look at the furnace, see if we can figure out the problem.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” Fitz assured him, and he watched Mack nod, glance at Jemma, and disappear back into the hallway. “I…er…I should go, then.” He drained the rest of his tea, setting the mug in the sink, and took a couple steps toward the door, even though he wasn’t really sure that he wanted to go. Lately, he’d been desperate to escape any room that Jemma was in, but right now he felt almost like he used to, as though he’d rather be right there with her than anywhere else on the base.

Jemma gave him a small, but still genuine smile. “I’ll see you later, Fitz. And please, fix the heat.”

Chuckling, Fitz absently wrung his hands together and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll try. Um…thanks…again, for the…uh…” He gestured awkwardly at his jacket.

She waved away his gratitude, and Fitz almost could have sworn that her cheeks were looking a little pinker than before. But, he brushed it off, figuring that she was probably just getting colder, and that meant that he needed to go fix that furnace so that she could warm up.

With one last parting, hesitant smile, Fitz left the kitchen and went to go meet Mack to work on the furnace. He was already halfway there when he realized that he was still wearing Jemma’s scarf, and he paused in the middle of the hallway as the realization hit him.

He picked up one of the ends, staring down at it in surprise, before glancing over his shoulder, back the way that he’d come. For a moment, he thought about going back to return it to her, but he couldn’t that be sure Jemma was even still in the kitchen, and he didn’t have time to go looking around for her when he needed to work on the furnace and get some heat back into this place. So, he shrugged and continued on his way, resolving to return it to her later.

And no, it was _not_ an excuse to see her again.

(Or, at least, that was what he told himself. Repeatedly.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	68. Post Season Four + "I wish you would stop"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "fs + 'I wish you would stop'" .

“I wish you would stop.”

Almost startled ( _almost_ ) by Fitz’s abrupt statement, Jemma glances up from the microscope that she’d been peering into in the lab they’d been assigned to earlier that week. Today, they’d arrived to find a new project waiting there for them, after just finishing yet another the previous day. She’d just been rattling off the possible avenues they could take to understand the alien technology currently perched on their lab bench, but Fitz’s words had cut straight through hers.

“Stop?” she repeats, as though she doesn’t understand exactly what he’s getting at. Vainly, she hopes that her bewildered front will be enough to dissuade him from pushing the subject; she’s known that this conversation was coming for some time, but she still isn’t ready for it.

But, Jemma also doubts that she’ll _ever_ be ready for it, so she supposes that now may well be better than later to get it over with.

Fitz makes a frustrated noise under his breath, setting down the tool he’d been fiddling absently with since they’d entered the lab not long ago onto the bench with enough force to have Jemma flinching, just slightly. “Just…just _stop_ , okay? Stop pretending that nothing’s changed and everything’s the same as it’s always been and…” He trails off, releasing a harsh breath, and she chances a glance in his direction to find that his eyes are squeezed tightly closed and his lips are pressed into a hard line.

“I’m well aware that things have changed, Fitz,” Jemma reminds him tiredly, and even though she knows that he can’t see it, she gestures sharply to the bolted doors on either side of the lab and the thick glass windows that show only dark, empty, nothingness as a view.

“That’s not what I meant.” Even with his eyes closed, Fitz has understood the meaning behind her words, and it makes Jemma’s heart ache with a particular twinge that she’d become intimately familiar with after she’d returned from HYDRA, one that she’d hoped would never return. It’s a sharp, painful reminder that even when things are all out of sorts (when _they’re_ out of sorts), Fitz is still the one person in the world that knows her best, and she is still the one person in the world that knows Fitz best, though it simply isn’t enough to bridge the distance that has sprung up between them.

And yes, even now, when she knows that Fitz believes that _he_ no longer knows himself, Jemma can feel deep down in her bones that she _knows_ him, that he’s only lost sight of who he truly is – but _she_ hasn’t, and if he would just let her, she could help him find it again.

But, that’s just the problem, isn’t it? He won’t _let_ her. He won’t let her help him, he won’t let her get close to him, he won’t let her solve this most recent problem with him.

However , he may be able to keep her at a distance and he may be able to keep her from helping him heal, but the one thing that he can’t keep her from doing is loving him, and she holds on tightly to that.

She thinks that, perhaps, that’s what he’s _really_ means when he says that he wishes she would stop (except she doesn’t just think it; she knows it, because she knows _him_ , and it’s at times like these that she wishes that, maybe, she didn’t understand him _quite_ so well).

With a resigned sigh, Jemma turns slightly to rest her hip up against the lab bench, focusing her full attention on Fitz as she tells him, “You obviously have something that you want to say and have for awhile, so why not just get it off your chest now? Let’s not dance around the subject any longer, Fitz, because it’s been wearing on us both and I don’t think that we can take much more.”

She also thinks that they might not be able to take actually _talking_ about it either, but getting it all out in the open seems like the healthier option, and she supposes that they could both benefit from that in the long run.

Fitz doesn’t say anything at first, and she watches with unashamed focus as his shoulders rise and fall on a deep, calming inhale, watches the line of his throat as he swallows, watches the way that his jaw briefly clenches then relaxes. It’s one of her favorite pastimes, just _watching_ Fitz, and she’ll never have enough of it, _never_ get tired of the sight of him, and she’s dearly missed being able to indulge in it as of late.

Finally, he half-turns to face her, reopening his eyes, though he still won’t quite meet hers (he hasn’t been able to look her in the eye since they woke up on a space station that is better termed a prison, and it’s been _killing_ her, she misses his beautiful blue eyes so much – she dreams of them almost every night, and still expects to find them there waiting for her when she wakes; there is no disappointment more poignant than finding only cold empty sheets). “You deserve better than this.”

It’s not quite what she’d been preparing to hear, and at first, Jemma doesn’t have a response to it. Fitz is watching her expectantly, his brows drawn together worriedly and his mouth turned down at the corners. After a beat, though, she manages to find her words. “Better than what, exactly? Better than still having my best friend in my life after everything that has attempted to tear us apart? Better than having said best friend still _close_ to me when we’ve been taken against our wills and held prisoner in _space_ of all places, separated from our team? I’d say that things are far better than they could be, given the circumstances.”

Fitz lets out a harsh breath, and she catches sight of his jaw tensing once more, though it doesn’t relax this time. “Jemma, come on, you’re the smartest person I know – quit playing deliberately obtuse just because you don’t want to admit it.”

“Admit _what_?” If Fitz wants to have this conversation, then he’s going to have to say the words, he’s going to have to work for it, because she sure isn’t going to be the one to do it (she _can’t_ be).

“That I’m a monster!” They’re words that Jemma can tell have been bubbling up inside of him for _weeks_ now, burning through his blood and beating against his brain. She’s wanted to soothe them away for just as long, but she couldn’t do so while he was still reeling, still coming to terms with the Framework’s long-reaching consequences.

And so, though the words sting her almost as much as she knows they sting him, Jemma breathes a silent sigh of relief. Finally, he’s come to terms with it all, and they can begin to heal together; all she has to do is convince him to take that first step with her.

“I’m a monster and a murderer and a horrible person and…and I’m only going to – to hurt you or…or _worse_ and… You deserve better than that, okay? You deserve more than…well, just about everything that’s happened to us in the past couple of years, but…me especially.” Fitz’s shoulders sag, just slightly, as he makes the soft but firm admission, and it’s obvious how much the words tear at him as they come out.

“Fitz…” Cautiously, carefully, Jemma steps forward, closing the space he’s been sure to keep between them, what feels like canyons rather than mere feet. When she’s just a step away, he flinches, looking ready to retreat, so she stops, but it’s closer than she’s been since she’d held him in the containment module while he fell apart and she _relishes_ it (truthfully, though, she wants to be closer still, wants to hold him tightly and never let go again, to press him closer and closer until they have no choice but to merge together and she can hold him inside of her, safe and protected from the evils of the world). “There are few things that I’m sure of in my life, and yes, most of them are scientific facts, but…one of those things is that you’ll _never_ hurt me.”

Fitz’s expression is almost _pained_ as he closes his eyes once more, bowing his head and shaking it tightly as he curls a hand around the edge of the bench beside them, as though he needs it to hold himself up. “That’s not… How can you…” Abruptly, he lifts his head and his eyes fly open as he reminds her sharply, “Jemma, I tried to _kill_ you!”

“You didn’t,” Jemma disagrees, calmly, because she’s prepared for days upon days for this very argument, and she won’t be moved by it.

He gapes at her, a mix of disbelief and frustration clearly written on his face. “I held…I put a…a _gun_ to your…” He can’t seem to get the words past his lips, the memory alone enough to cause him a terrible pain, and Jemma wonders how a man who can’t even say the _words_ thinks that he’s capable of such horrors, but she understands that he’s been filled with a sweeping doubt that he simply can’t control.

“That wasn’t you,” she answers simply, “that was the Doctor.”

He flinches, just slightly, at the name his Framework counterpart had adopted to strike fear into its people, but it doesn’t show as he says sharply, “That was _me_ ; we’re not two separate people, Jemma. _I_ did all of those things, I killed those people, I hurt _you_ – it was all _me_.”

What she really wants to do is argue with him, to defend him where he won’t defend himself, to list all of the _thousands_ of reasons she’s built up over the past decade that he’s a good man, but she doesn’t. She knows she won’t get through to him that way. So, instead, Jemma asks plainly, “What if it had been me?”

Fitz is clearly thrown by her question, and he blinks once, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What if what had been you?”

“What if I had been the Doctor? What if I had been taken instead and plugged into the Framework, a whole new history rewritten into my brain? What if I had been HYDRA’s top scientist, had been a murderer? What if _I_ had tried to kill _you_?”

He doesn’t even seem to give the questions thought before he gives a firm shake of his head in response. “You wouldn’t. You’d never do any of that, Jemma, you’re a…a good person, the _best_ person. You’re caring and kind and you just want help people, you’d never…you just couldn’t do it.”

“But how do you _know_ that?” Jemma presses. “What makes you so sure?”

Fitz’s hand curls more tightly around the edge of the lab bench, his whole body seeming to tense all at once. “I just _know_ , okay? I know you, Jemma, and I know you’re not that person. I _trust_ you.”

“So it’s completely based on your faith in me that you believe I could’ve never been the Doctor in the Framework? And you consider that a valid argument?” Fitz narrows his eyes suspiciously, but he still nods silently in response. “For argument’s sake, then, I could say that I trust that what the Doctor did in the Framework were things that you would never do, that you’re not the person you were forced to become, and that I know you better than to believe that.”

“It’s not the same, Jemma.” He just sounds weary now, exhausted, after carrying around the guilt and the disgust at himself and the belief that he’s not the person he’d always thought himself to be. If Jemma has her way, though, he won’t have to carry that weight around for another day.

“It’s exactly the same, Fitz,” she argues softly. “How is it fair for you to say that you trust me, but I can’t say that I trust you? What, because my transgressions are only theoretical? Fitz, we all have the potential to be twisted into something dark and terrible. AIDA manipulated you, placed an abusive figure in your life and took away a positive one, placed _herself_ there to further force you down the path that she needed you to be on, and rewrote your entire history. Honestly, you never had a _choice_ ; you were going to become the Doctor whether you wanted to or not.

“But here, in the _real_ world? You _did_ have a choice, and you chose to become the man standing before me, who is wonderful and caring and brilliant and beautiful and would give _anything_ to help people, whether they’re his friends or a complete stranger. _That’s_ what is in your heart; not evil, but _love_ , an endless supply of it, given freely and without expectation. And if I know and believe in and trust one thing, it’s the love that you hold inside of you.”

A bit short of breath after her long-winded speech, Jemma lifts her hand slowly, her fingers trembling just barely, to press against his chest. She can feel that big, loving, magnificent heart beating against her palm, and it spreads warmth across her skin that has been missing in the lonely, cold emptiness of space.

Fitz sucks in a sharp breath, and almost seeming as though it’s against his will, his eyes flicker up the final inch to meet hers, and Jemma feels her knees grow weak and a shiver travel down her spine at the sheer amount of emotion in his gaze, the fear and the adoration and the doubt and the _love_. “ _Jemma_ …” He seems as though he’s about to say more, but then, instead, he simply surges forward and gathers her up in his arms, holding her so tightly that she can’t quite breath for a moment, but she doesn’t _care_.

Jemma clings to Fitz with a desperation that she’s been doing her best to hide, to bury down deep inside, but now that she has him in her arms with his heart beating wildly where it presses against hers, she allows it to rush to the surface. She twists her fingers in the fabric of his shirt and his curls that have grown longer in their imprisonment. She breathes him in greedily and absorbs his warmth and buries her face in the space between his neck and shoulder, relishing the skin of his throat against her cheek.

“I dunno if…I’m not sure I can believe it,” he whispers, his tone achingly vulnerable, terrified and shaking.

“That’s okay,” she murmurs, squeezing her eyelids more tightly shut to hold back on the tears pressing at the backs of them, turning her head slightly to find his neck with her lips, so that he can feel the words against his skin as she promises, “We’re going to find a way to fix this, together.”

For a moment, her only response in the shudder that passes through his frame, but then she feels the slight movement of his head as he nods, his scratchy beard catching a bit on her hair. It’s not an agreement or a promise or anything of the sort, but it’s a first step toward Fitz rediscovering what AIDA and the Framework had taken from him, to helping him find the person that he truly is inside once more and believing in himself.

For now, for Jemma, it’s more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	69. Post 3x20 - Shipper!Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written last year, post 3x20

When Daisy woke to the sound of beeping machines and a familiar ceiling, for a moment she was disoriented – her thoughts were all a mish-mash, and she wasn’t completely sure if she was at the Playground and the Hive nightmare had been just that, or if she was still in Hive’s newest lair and had just dreamed up everything about Andrew coming to her rescue.

But, then the fog cleared a bit, and she was reminded of the horrifying fact that it was all true – everything that felt like a sickening nightmare had _actually_ happened. Her only consolation was the reminder that it was over now, that she was no longer under that monster’s control and was back home, where she truly belonged.

With a groan, Daisy weakly tried to sit up, but her body was still refusing to do much moving after she’d so willingly handed over almost her entire blood supply to make those abominations. Releasing a frustrated huff, she collapsed back onto the mattress and resolved herself to the idea that she wasn’t going anywhere for awhile.

Just then, voices filtered into the little hospital room off the lab that she’d become intimately familiar with after their stint in Puerto Rico last year. Frowning, Daisy turned her head and caught a glimpse of Fitz and Jemma entering the lab through the glass, deep in conversation with worried expressions painting their faces. As their voices became closer and clearer, Daisy realized that they were discussing Hive’s horrifying plan for the population – which certainly explained the grim expressions.

“It never ends, does it?” Jemma sighed, collapsing into the chair at her desk and closing her eyes as her head bowed.

“It’s not like we didn’t know what we were getting into when we signed up for SHIELD, Jem,” Fitz reminded her, leaning up against the desk beside her and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course we did!” Jemma burst out, lifting her head and throwing up her hands in exasperation. “But, it never slows down; it only seems to be happening more and more quickly as time goes on! The Chitauri invasion, Centipede, HYDRA, the obelisk, Jiaying, the monolith, Malick and Ward, and now Hive! When have we had a single moment to breathe and not worry that we’re about to die?”

Fitz’s lips twisted into a frown, and Daisy felt her own deepening, her heart going out to her distressed friend; it was true, it seemed that for the past few years, life had been trying its hardest to get them. But, then Fitz gave the briefest of smiles and uncrossed his arms in order to gently nudge Jemma’s shoulder. “I can think of a few.” Much to Daisy’s confusion, a little blush spread across Jemma’s cheeks then and she rewarded Fitz with a small smile of her own. “You’re just stressed, Jemma. Everything’s gonna be fine.”  Daisy doubted that Fitz much believed that himself, and knew that Jemma didn’t either, but cleverly, he didn’t allow her a moment to argue before he had shifted behind her chair. His hands rose to her shoulders, setting to massaging the stress out himself.

The move seemed a bit odd to Daisy, because while Fitzsimmons had always had zero personal space and were pretty touchy-feely, things had been kind of strained between them since the whole Maveth debacle, and she’d thought they were _just_ getting back to normal, not quite on this level yet.

Jemma didn’t seem to find anything wrong with Fitz’s actions, though. She let out a pleased sigh, dropping her head to the side to give him more room to work with as she murmured, “Oh, that feels heavenly.”

“You need to stop worrying yourself to death,” Fitz admonished with a shake of his head, but Daisy knew him well enough to hear the concern in his tone that he was attempting to hide. “There’s only so much that I can offer in stress relief before you become just a big ball of tension.”

Much to Daisy’s confusion, an almost… _flirty_ smile crossed Jemma’s lips then as she replied lowly, “You sure about that?”

Fitz’s hands suddenly paused, resting on Jemma’s shoulders, and he seemed to take a moment to swallow before he responded, his accent heavier than usual, “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed as she watched what would be blatant foreplay between _anyone_ but her oblivious nerdy friends. She had to be misunderstanding something, reading further into it than she should’ve been, because there was _no way_ that they’d figured their shit out finally and it wasn’t already all over the base. Fitzsimmons were hardly known for their subtlety, after all.

Jemma spun around in her chair to face Fitz, standing before him and stepping _way_ into his personal space bubble. Her arms rose to loop around his neck, and she almost seemed to be leaning in closer. But, she paused when he told her seriously, “I mean it, Jem. This isn’t all on you – you don’t need to single-handedly solve all of the world’s problems.”

Jemma’s playful smile faded in an instant, her gaze dropping as she took a deep breath, and Daisy didn’t understand why Fitz had said anything that would cause the first smile that she’d seen her friend wear in _so_ long to disappear. But, at least Jemma hadn’t stepped away and put any distance between herself and Fitz, so that was something. “Fitz…”

“I’m right here with you,” he reminded her softly, his hands lifting to rest on her hips. In all her years of being friends with Fitzsimmons, Daisy had never seen them take on a pose _this_ intimate before; she was beginning to doubt her claim that a relationship between them at this point was completely preposterous. “Always. Talk to me, or don’t, but I’m here for as long as you’ll have me, Jemma.”

At his words, Jemma’s smile returned, seeming to brighten up the whole room. But, this smile was softer, warmer, more…intimate, and Daisy had the odd feeling that she shouldn’t be witnessing what was clearly meant for Fitz’s eyes only. “I hope you’re prepared for a lifetime of my chronic worrying and my love of disgusting biology and my constant nagging to eat less sugar and drink more water, then. Oh, which speaking of, did you –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Fitz interrupted, rolling his eyes fondly. “Jemma, I signed up for a lifetime of your quirks over a decade ago. I hardly think anything has changed since then. In fact, I’ve only become more resolved to spend my life by your side.”

Jemma beamed up at him, pressing herself nearer to his body even as she tugged him closer as well. “Good. I mean, not that I would’ve let you leave anyway, but –”

Much to Daisy’s utter shock, Fitz cut Jemma off this time by swooping in to capture her lips with his, and in a single moment she was proven completely wrong – somehow, at some point, her two best friends in the whole world had finally realized what everyone had known for _so_ long and gotten together. And it was more beautiful and nauseating than she’d ever imagined.

When the two nerds came up for air, Fitz stayed close, resting his forehead on Jemma’s, and they were just smiling at each other almost dopily at each other, looking perfectly in love – _as it should be_ , Daisy couldn’t help but think with a wide and satisfied smile. Softly, he asked, “Are you going to cut back on the stress, or at least talk some of it out with me?”

Jemma gave an exaggerated little sigh, but her smile was still firmly in place. “I _suppose_. After all, what good is a boyfriend if you can’t burden him with your problems?”

Daisy lifted a hand to cover her mouth in an attempt to stifle her squeal as Jemma unintentionally confirmed their relationship for her. Beneath her hand, there was now a huge grin taking over her face, and she was happier than she had been in what felt like forever.

“You’re not burdening me,” Fitz disagreed fiercely, pulling back a bit to frown down at Jemma once more. “I may be your boyfriend now, but I’m still and always will be your best friend first. You can tell me _anything_.”

Jemma’s hands shifted from behind Fitz’s head to cupping his cheeks, her thumbs fondly stroking his skin, and she let out a little sigh as she smiled tenderly up at him. “I know that, Fitz.”

Fitz didn’t seem too happy when she just left it at that, but he nodded in understanding regardless, lifting his hands to gently pull hers away from his face, bringing their joined hands to his lips to press kisses to Jemma’s fingers. After a long, silent moment, he suggested quietly, “I think it’s about time we got some sleep. Now that Daisy’s home safe, maybe we’ll actually get a full night’s rest.”

The words as effective as a bucket of ice water, Daisy was abruptly reminded of everything that had happened in the past few weeks, everything that she’d all but forgotten as she reveled in the happiness her two closest friends had found together. At Fitz’s revelation of the toll that she’d taken on them, guilt grew and laid thick and heavy in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

For a brief moment, she almost opened her mouth to spout an apology, the need to tell them how sorry she was a burning ache in her chest. But, when she noticed a moment later that both Fitz and Jemma were turning in her direction, she instantly and automatically closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Yes, she was desperate to apologize for the things she’d done while under Hive’s control, but she also knew that the conversation they’d just shared was incredibly personal; Daisy didn’t want to add eavesdropping to any kind of list of her transgressions they might have.

“The poor thing,” Jemma sighed sadly. “I hope she’s resting up. God knows if that monster even allowed her a chance to sleep.”

“At least it’s over now,” Fitz commented with a heavy sigh of his own.

“We can only hope,” she replied quietly. For a long moment, there was no sound. Then, Daisy heard their retreating footsteps, and dared to crack her eyes open a bit to watch as they left the lab hand-in-hand, likely taking the late hour of the night to mean that there was no one around to witness their casual displays of affection.

Once they’d disappeared in the direction of the bunks, Daisy opened her eyes fully, sagging back into her pillow. Slowly, a tiny little smile curved her lips, and she was glad that at least _one_ good thing seemed to have come out of the shitstorm that had been the past few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	70. 3x17 - Scene Extension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "could i request an extension of the 3x17 kisses?", and prompted by @fitzsimmonsftw on tumblr: "could you please do something set after the Fitzsimmons becoming canon scene cuts off?"

She was kissing _Fitz_.

Jemma Simmons was kissing Leopold Fitz, her best friend in the whole world, and it was fantastic and perfect and she was left feeling absolutely _giddy_ because of it.

After all, she’d spent months worried that the only kisses they would ever share would be those ones in the lab what now felt like ages ago, when tears had been closer to the surface than laughter, and everything had felt simultaneously wrong and so _right_. Truthfully, she knew that it had tainted the experience for them both, and Jemma was so infinitely glad to have the chance to try again (and again and again and again).

Now, they not only had the chance to try again, but also to have sweet kisses and kisses filled with laughter and deep passionate kisses and goodnight kisses and good morning kisses and sleepy kisses and kisses just to remind the other that they were _so_ important to them – she didn’t think she would ever have _enough_ of kissing Fitz, really.

Nor enough of touching him, either, it seemed.

They’d always been rather tactile with each other throughout their long history as best friends practically joined at the hip, squeezing shoulders supportively, giving comforting hugs, curling up on the couch together on movie nights, and sometimes even falling asleep together in one of their beds. But, never before had Jemma felt this freedom to touch him just because she _could_ , just because she wanted to. She could drag her fingers through his curls and thumb along his prickly jaw and trace the shape of his ears, scratch her short nails down the back of his neck and slide her palms along the curves of his shoulders.

With a fierceness that she hadn’t realized was quite so strong until this moment, she wanted to feel _all_ of him, to memorize him with just her lips and her hands, to have him beneath her touch and as close to her as humanly possible, where she could be sure to keep him safe and happy and loved.

In the back of her mind, she had the thought that she may very well be becoming fast addicted to Fitz and the thrill of being close to him and the taste of his lips against hers, but she also couldn’t quite find it in herself to care. If she was being completely honest, they’d always been rather obsessed with each other, choosing to spend almost all of their time together rather than apart, even when the school or work day had ended and they could have easily gone their separate ways.

Jemma couldn’t quite help the burst of muffled giggles that she let out against Fitz’s eager mouth as she remembered how many of her short-lived relationships had gone down the proverbial drain all because they hadn’t been able to take having Fitz as an unwanted third party in said relationship. And, at the end, there had always been some version of the words, “Why don’t you just date _him_ if you’re so desperate to be together all the time?” and Jemma had, in turn, always found it utterly absurd.

In fact, she and Fitz had often had a good laugh about it after the fact, nearly in stitches over the idea that everyone seemed to think that they were romantically interested in each other – but through it all, it truly had been _her and Fitz_ that were wrong (there was a first time for everything).

Much to Jemma’s displeasure, Fitz broke away from their heated kiss then, asking rather peevishly, “What’s so funny then?”

However, she was momentarily distracted by how _nice_ Fitz’s voice sounded when he was out of breath and a bit hoarse from kissing _her_ , and she almost ignored his question completely in favor of just diving right back in (she doubted that he’d have any _real_ objections). But, she ultimately managed to hold herself back, focusing instead on his words (though she still allowed her fingers to absently trail along the shape of his shoulders, drawing lazy circles over the exposed skin of his neck, and she bit her lip against a smile when she felt him shiver in response).

“We were so _silly_ , Fitz! How did we never realize what was between us before?” Giving a soft, amused laugh, she shook her head and asked wryly, “What would our old classmates and co-workers say if they knew?”

Fitz scoffed quietly, and Jemma could feel his fingers clutching lightly at her waist, then carefully, oh so slowly curving along her hip. Unconsciously, she scooted a bit closer to him along the floor of his bunk, until her knee knocked against his. “‘Told you so’, probably,” he answered, then added with a roll of his eyes, “Or the more annoying option, ‘I knew it!’”

Dropping forward to bury her face in his shoulder and hide her embarrassed smile, Jemma’s words were slightly muffled by the fabric of his shirt as she went on, “All of my ex-boyfriends…”

He released a huff of clearly pleased laughter at that, his free hand stroking down the length of her upper arm and causing goosebumps to appear on her skin. “Y’know, now I don’t feel so bad about wrecking all of your relationships.”

Leaning back far enough to catch his eye, Jemma tried to give him a stern look of disapproval, but it didn’t last for very long at all – she was feeling far too happy and warm and full to be upset about much of anything just then. “I understand now that none of those relationships would’ve ever worked, not in the long run. Not when I didn’t realize that the reason that I only wanted to spend time with you wasn’t _just_ because you were more interesting than anyone else I’d come across.”

Though to be fair, Jemma still, after spending a fair amount of time trying to pinpoint it, wasn’t sure when she’d fallen for Fitz, when her feelings for him had passed the line of friendship and entered the realm of _more_. But, she’d also decided to reason that it made sense that she’d felt something more than friendship for Fitz for a lengthy amount of time at least, despite not being conscious of it – it made the most sense, after all.

Aloud, she couldn’t help but wonder softly, “How did I manage to delude myself into thinking that all I felt for you was friendship for so _long_?” It seemed ridiculous, when she thought about it; though she’d never been someone completely in tune with her own emotions, Jemma still liked to believe that she knew herself quite well, thank you.

Fitz, however, only gave a little, one-shouldered shrug and told her lowly, “It happens to the best of us, I suppose. The important thing is that we figured it out eventually, yeah? I mean, can you imagine if we’d continued on like we always had, never realizing how we really felt?”

Giving a quick shake of her head, Jemma murmured firmly, “I don’t want to; I much prefer _this_.” Even though she wasn’t quite sure of what _this_ was yet, or where it was going, she found that she truly did very much prefer the unknown (where she got to touch and kiss and hold Fitz), rather than feeling safe in the familiar but never knowing what it was like to have something more between them.

The expression on Fitz’s face then was one that she’d become familiar with only recently, one that left her feeling both exposed and protected, one that caused her hands to tremble and her heart to surge inside her chest, unable to believe how much pure love and adoration was filling the eyes of her best friend and focused solely on her.

After a moment, he began to lean in, closing the distance that they’d unconsciously put back between them, distance that had been there for far too long already. Just as his lips were brushing hers, though, Jemma didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she suddenly spoke up to clarify teasingly, “And by ‘this’, I mean sitting here with you beneath your magnificent poster of space, of course.”

Fitz pulled back far enough to meet her gaze, looking like a cross between put out and amused as he unsuccessfully attempted to hold back on a grin. “Oh?”

She wanted to tease him just a little bit more, to get him back for his earlier comment about the poster, but she just couldn’t help herself; it was almost as though his lips were magnets, dragging hers back to them against her will (though not really, because Jemma went quite willingly). Forgetting almost entirely what they’d been speaking about (and most likely, words in general), she fitted her lips against his in what was now becoming a thrillingly familiar sensation.

Looping her arms around his neck, Jemma then leveraged herself up onto her knees to get a better angle, and her reward came in the form of Fitz’s short, choked-off groan. She chased the sound eagerly with her lips, wanting to keep it forever and contain it within herself as something only she would have the privilege to hear.

Jemma had never been a possessive sort of person, always rather indifferent as to whether her boyfriends wanted to do things apart from her, to go out with their friends instead of her; she’d simply been pleased to have more time with Fitz (truly, she’d been a blind fool). But, with Fitz, she could feel a potent possessiveness bubbling up inside that startled her, though it probably shouldn’t have – she’d already realized that she didn’t want to live any life that didn’t involve Fitz, that she could only truly be happy when she was with him and he was with her.

But this…it was so much more than that. She wanted to press her palms to his chest and feel his heart beating beneath them, knowing that it was all hers, just as her own heart was his. She wanted to know him completely and fully, and be content in the knowledge that no one else would know him as she did, all of his secrets kept safe with her. She wanted to consume him and carry him inside of her, as a part of her, to never be away from him and to never be parted from him again.

It was intense and almost unbearable, just how much she _ached_ with the love inside of her, even though she’d never been happier than she was in this moment, and Jemma wondered at being able to feel so _much_ for one single person. But, Fitz wasn’t just a person, he was…

 _Everything_.

Breaking the kiss this time and fighting to catch her breath, Jemma shifted to rest her forehead against his, staring into the eyes of the one person that she loved more than anything, more than her own life. She wanted, rather desperately in fact, to tell him how she felt, but she ultimately decided to hold her tongue, as it just wasn’t the right time yet (they still had so much to discuss, after all, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment by getting too serious – they would have plenty of other moments in the future, and the reminder gave her a thrill of excitement).

So, instead, she tilted her head to peck his lips once more, then settled back against his side, laying her head on his shoulder as his arm came up to wrap around her and keep her there beside him (as if she’d want to be anywhere else). And even though she was already pressed so near to his side that she could feel the heat that always seemed to be emanating off of him, she snuggled just a bit closer, allowing her eyes to slip closed as she breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Being there, with Fitz, _finally_ , curled up in his arms under his silly, magnificent poster of space, Jemma was content – no, more than that, she was finally _happy_ once more, though in a way that she didn’t think she’d ever quite felt before.  For that brief moment, everything was just the way that it was supposed to be.

Even if it couldn’t possibly last, for now, everything was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	71. Teachers AU vs Season 2 AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a bit different but, recently, I finished posting one of my multi-chapter fics, a hand to hold (take me home), which means that I’ve got an opening in my writing schedule for another one. However, I’ve narrowed it down to two options, and I figured I’d let you all decide which one I go with! I’ll give a brief summary of each, and there are snippets below for both of them, to help make the decision easier. Whichever one is chosen, I’ll likely begin posting it sometime soon, so keep an eye out! Thanks!

******Option One:**   When a greedy politician rolls out his new policy that’ll leave a small-town middle school with a lack of enough funds to stay open after the current school year, the residents of the town think the situation to be hopeless. The same, however, cannot be said for the staff of Margaret Carter Middle School, who will fight with everything they have to stay open – or rather,  _fundraise_  with everything they have.

This is (obviously) a teachers AU, which is centered around the relationships between both Fitzsimmons and Mackelena, though I’d say it probably focuses more heavily on FS because hi, it’s me. There’s humor and romance and all of the team, with as many fundraising gimmicks as I can fit in the fic.

 **Option Two:**  Which doesn’t have a summary yet, but basically it’s a rewrite of my first ever AoS fic, Hardest Kept Promises (which I look back on now and...Yikes), one that I’ve wanted to do a rewrite of for some time. It’s a Season 2 AU, where Clint and Natasha join the team at the Playground following the Season 1 finale, and Natasha befriends Jemma and helps her to realize that she has feelings for Fitz in return during the nine days that he’s in a coma. 

This one is Angst City and closely follows the events of Season 2, told from the POVs of Jemma and Natasha, as Jemma navigates Fitz’s injury and their distance while fully aware of her feelings for him, often counseled by closet romantic Natasha Romanoff. ((Also, it ignores the....more romantic events of AoU, and Clintasha is featured as an established relationship))

-

**Teachers AU**

****“Hey, Fitz, can I – is that more chocolate?”

Guiltily, Fitz paused in his frenzied effort to hide a small pile of chocolate bars in the top desk of his drawer. “Oh, hey Simmons…um…something you needed?”

Heaving an exasperated sigh and shaking her head, Jemma crossed her arms over her chest and stepped further into the classroom. Once she was standing in front of Fitz’s desk, she peered disappointedly down at him, the same look that she used on her students when they tried to form some kind of excuse as to why they didn’t have their homework. “Oh _Fitz_. It’s not a fundraiser if you’re buying up all of the product.”

“I only have so much willpower!” Fitz cried defensively. “How am I supposed to say no to candy bars?”

Jemma pressed her lips together to hide her amused smile as she shook her head again. “Maybe we _should_ have gone with Daisy’s calendar idea – at least that way you wouldn’t be in danger of solely funding us.”

Fitz pulled a horrified face, and it caused Jemma to finally break, laughter slipping past her lips and revealing her ruse. “Very funny, Simmons. But I’m not joking when I say that _no one_ would buy a calendar of ‘sexy teachers’ if I was in there with my shirt off.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jemma replied with a placating pat to his shoulder, though she figured that the laughter still lingering in her voice made the sentiment less believable, from the telling scowl that Fitz threw in her direction.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he started pointedly, “what was it that you wanted before?”

For a moment, Jemma had forgotten that she’d had a purpose in dropping by Fitz’s classroom, but at his not-so-subtle reminder, she said, “Oh! Yes, I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of your microscopes. I’m starting the cell unit tomorrow and I don’t have enough for the class, even putting them in pairs.”

“Sure thing,” he replied easily, getting up from his desk and crossing the classroom to the back counter, where a small amount of microscopes were set up in a row. “How many do you need?” he called over his shoulder.

“Two should do it, thank you,” Jemma answered a bit distractedly, taking the chance to check his desk drawer. Once it had been pulled all the way out, her eyebrows rose high on her forehead as she caught sight of the chocolate bars practically lining it. “Ugh _Fitz_!”

“What?!” When she raised her head to glare at him, she noticed him balancing the two requested microscopes in his arms, struggling a bit under the weight of them, and his cheeks slowly growing redder and redder as he figured out what she’d seen. “Hey, I’ve never claimed to have an ounce of self-control when it comes to chocolate.” Clearly trying to save face, he added, “’Sides, it’s not exactly surprising. You know this happens every year.”

With a sigh, Jemma perched lightly on the edge of Fitz’s desk and reminded him sadly, “This isn’t every other year though, Fitz. We’re not raising money for field trips or extra lab equipment, not without that tax money.”

Fitz grimaced, partly at her words, but also partly, it appeared, due to his continued juggling of the microscopes. Rolling her eyes fondly, Jemma stood from his desk and (only after trying to take one of the microscopes from Fitz and receiving a childish shake of the head in response) wordlessly gestured for him to follow her on the short walk from his classroom in the seventh grade hallway to hers in the eighth. As he trailed behind her, he grumbled, “If it wasn’t for that bastard Governor Ward and his filthy, lying bastard face… I still have no bloody clue how he even got elected.”

“Some people don’t care to look past the clearly false promises,” Jemma sighed, pushing open the door to her classroom and stepping back to allow Fitz to enter. “You can put them over there,” she told him, pointing toward a relatively empty table. Watching absently as Fitz did as she asked, Jemma felt a rush of sadness at the thought that this time next year, she might not be in this classroom setting up slides of plant cells or discussing recent scientific discoveries over tea with Fitz in the afternoons as they put off grading just a little bit longer.

“Hey.” At Fitz’s soft voice beside her, Jemma glanced up in surprise, a small smile flitting involuntarily across her lips when he nudged her shoulder with his. “Ward’s not shutting us down. We’re gonna prove to him that we’re prepared to fight for our school.”

As her smile became more genuine, Jemma’s mind flashed back almost a decade, to when she and Fitz had just been fresh-faced almost-college-graduates, interning at the tiny Margaret Carter Middle School in some tiny little town, entirely unaware that it was where they’d meet the person that would become their best friend in the world. The school meant so much to both of them, and Jemma couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else or with anyone else.

Gently dropping her head to rest on Fitz’s shoulder, she murmured in agreement, “We’ll show him.”

-

**Season 2 AU**

“Looking for some tips?”

Jemma glanced up from the fact sheet Coulson had had printed up for her, one that she’d been studying meticulously for the past few hours. Glad to give her eyes a rest, she just about managed a smile for Natasha, nodding gratefully. “Anything to help. I’m a rather dreadful liar. I mean, I _have_ been getting better but not…not on _this_ level.” She gestured to the paper that contained what she was now supposed to pass off as her history.

“If Coulson thinks you can do it, then you must have the skill to back it up,” Natasha stated plainly, perching on a stool across the island from her. Nervously, Jemma threw a glance at the doorway to the commissary, always worried that Fitz would be the next to enter, that he’d somehow catch wind of her plans to go undercover, that he’d be…be even _angrier_ with her.

She knew he was never going to understand why she was doing what she was, but no matter how much it would hurt, she _had_ to go through with it – to give him time and space to heal, to give him a fighting chance, to _protect_ him.

“I just saw him heading to the lab,” Natasha said suddenly, automatically bringing Jemma’s gaze back to her knowing face. “He won’t be stopping by anytime soon.”

Jemma colored at being read so easily, anxiously curling the corners of the paper in front of her with her fingertips. “Oh.”

Mercifully, Natasha dropped the subject (it was one of the things Jemma appreciated about the legendary agent the most – she never beat around the bush, and she never pressed if she didn’t need to; it made her surprisingly easy to talk to), and instead she said bluntly, “You should cut your hair.”

Taken aback, Jemma absently raised her hand to finger the waves drifting past her shoulders (she hadn’t had the ambition to put in the time it took to straighten it, not since…since they’d arrived at the Playground). “Cut my _hair_?”

“And change up your wardrobe. Maybe go a bit darker and heavier with your makeup. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that changing your appearance can go quite a ways with adopting a new personality. Almost every time I go undercover, I look like someone new because I _am_ someone new. You have to live your new identity to sell it.”

It made sense, Jemma had to admit, but the very first thought that popped into her head was, _when I return, will Fitz even recognize me?_ But, she shook away the ridiculous fear and reminded herself that it was all _for_ him, to _protect_ him, and she’d do anything to protect him. “Cut my hair, change my clothes, wear heavier makeup; got it. Anything else? Anything that might help an awful liar survive in the lion’s den?” She forced a little laugh at the end, hoping to seem more calm and breezy than she felt.

Natasha didn’t seem fooled. Her piercing eyes studied Jemma carefully for a long, silent moment, and though she didn’t say a word about it, Jemma somehow knew that she’d seen right through her sad attempt, saw through all the walls she’d been attempting to erect around her heart in an effort to protect it – an effort that came far too late.

“Try to keep things as close to the truth as possible,” Natasha advised finally. “They ask if you’re loyal to HYDRA? You reply by saying that you go where science leads you. It’s true, right? They’ll just think that it’s led you from SHIELD to them. They ask why you gave up on SHIELD, why you switched sides? You tell them you’re trying to move on from losing a partner.”

Jemma inhaled sharply at the innocuous words, her grip on her fact sheet tightening so abruptly that it crinkled in her fists. Tears began to fill her eyes, and she hoped distantly that Natasha would think they were the reason she was blinking so rapidly, and not because she was trying to push away the image of Fitz’s last, watery, trembling smile before he pushed that damn button and him lying in that bed hooked up to tubes and an IV and nine days of horror and the way he hadn’t recognized her when his eyes had first opened and the frustration and anger and pain on his face every time he couldn’t find a word or his hands shook directed at her always at her.

“Simmons.” Natasha’s tone was firm, demanding her attention, but somehow also gentle with concern, with sympathy. When Jemma blinked her watery gaze back to Natasha’s face, she went on, “I’m hitting all the nerves because you need to prepared – it’s what _they’re_ going to do. They’re going to try and break you, they’re going to push you to your limits, and they will push on the raw nerves until you cave. And when you cave, when they find out you’re a spy, they will _kill_ you. Or _worse_.”

She almost asked what could be _worse_ than HYDRA making her and then killing her, but at the last moment she realized that she probably didn’t want to know – she was already likely to have nightly nightmares about what would happen if her cover was blown, ones where she was promptly executed and she never got a chance to tell Fitz that he was more than that too; she didn’t need to add fuel to that fire.

“Good to know,” Jemma said faintly, her weak attempt at a joking smile coming out closer to a grimace than anything else. “I think, out of everything, what I’m most afraid of is how…how he’ll take it. That’s silly, isn’t it?”

“No,” Natasha replied firmly. “I think it’s only natural for you to be concerned about how he’ll take it. Especially given that it’s not exactly an assignment you can share.”

Jemma _agreed_ with Coulson’s decision to label her assignment classified, knew that it made perfect sense logically, but that didn’t make the idea of having to lie to Fitz any easier. They almost _never_ lied to each other, and never without good reasons – _life or death_ reasons – and she couldn’t imagine what doing so now would do to their already damaged relationship. But, not telling him was for his own good; she knew he’d drive himself mad with worry within a week, and _she_ was not what needed his concentration at the moment; that was the whole point of her leaving, after all.

Even if he wasn’t going to have cause to worry about her, though, she knew he was going to (it was in their nature, after all, to worry about each other constantly) and if she could ease some of that burden by keeping her true destination a secret, she would gladly do it. However, once she was gone, she couldn’t protect him from the knowledge of her whereabouts, let alone anything else, nor even make sure he was doing his exercises or taking time to calm down before he destroyed the lab in a fit of anger, and the very thought of was eating away at her.

She knew she had to do _something_ , but no one else knew about her plans to go undercover, so she couldn’t ask this of them without it seeming suspicious. But, Natasha…

Hesitating briefly, Jemma asked softly, “Will you…well, I _know_ the others will look out for Fitz and help him, of course, they care about him too, but he’s so bad about accepting help – he’s so _proud_ , that one, always has been – but perhaps since you and Agent Barton have nothing to compare him to, maybe he’ll accept your friendship and your aid, subtly, of course, overt aid will put him off immediately –”

She cut herself off when Natasha reached out to lay a hand over hers, and she caught and held Jemma’s gaze as she told her sincerely, “I promise, I will try and watch out for Fitz as much as Clint and I can.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	72. Framework Switch-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "I was wondering if you could do a oneshot where it isn't Jemma that goes into the Framework with Daisy, but Fitz? And how it would change the story?"
> 
> Considered to be a follow-up to Ch 60, but you don’t have to read that one first to understand this one.

Fitz awoke with a violent gasp, eyes flying open, only to snap shut once more at the strong, almost… _natural_ light that was streaming in from somewhere close by. But that didn’t make any sense; the Playground only had artificial lighting, and he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d woken up to natural light spilling in through windows, nor could he quite remember how he’d gotten to a place that did, though something was tickling at the back of his mind…

Blindly, he reached out for Jemma, knowing that she’d probably have more answers this early in the morning than he could ever hope to. “Jemma?” he mumbled out, but his fingers only found sheets that were much softer than the standard-issue ones that the Playground had always had, and his eyes sprung open once more.

He blinked up at the ceiling, then took a squinted glance around to see that he was in a sprawling room with floor-to-ceiling windows and more space than the entire square footage of his mum’s home back in Glasgow.

It was only then, as the confusion was setting in heavily, that Fitz _remembered_ ; he remembered the discovery of the LMDs and their escape to the workshop and finding out that _she_ was an LMD too and _stabbing_ and blood and Daisy quaking his bones and the words “ _you and Jemma belong together_ ”, and –

 _Jemma_.

Fitz was in the Framework. He was in the Framework to rescue Jemma and the rest of their team, to wake them up so that he and Daisy could find out where Radcliffe and AIDA were keeping them and bring them home. And, that was exactly what he was going to do, fake Framework life be damned.

He determinedly tossed away the blankets then, climbing out of the bed and crossing the room to what was either a closet or a bathroom. Throwing open the double doors, Fitz’s eyebrows rose as he found himself staring into a closet as big as the room that he and Jemma shared on the base (truthfully, it was probably bigger, but he didn’t exactly have time to take exact measurements), and it was full of…suits.

Frowning, Fitz rifled through them, not finding much distinction other than slight color variation and the labels, which he’d never given a single care to before in his life. There were fancy dress shoes shined to perfection lined up along the floor and expensive silk ties hanging in front of him and nothing was adding up – where _was_ he? Why did he have all of these things?

At that moment, he abruptly remembered the words that Jemma’s LMD had spoken, “ _…in the Framework, we can find Perthshire together, we can get married, grow old together…”_

The reminder of the words had a shudder passing through him, an ache spearing straight through his chest that made it difficult to breathe, and all he wanted in that moment was _Jemma_ – the _real_ Jemma, the one with freezing hands and the same fruity shampoo she’d been using since Sci-Ops and kind beautiful eyes and a laugh that always effortlessly warmed him all over.

But, he pushed down the overwhelming longing because it wasn’t going to help him any, and instead he focused on the words. For a fleeting moment, he wondered to himself, _is this Perthshire?_

As Fitz finished changing into one of the suits that was worth more than a whole year’s worth of his paychecks, he had to force himself not to think too hard about the last time that he’d worn a suit, when Jemma’s eager fingers had divested him of it while her lips had kissed across skin exposed to them for the first time.

Doing his level best to ignore the normally wonderful but now quite distracting memories, he stepped hastily out of the closet and across the room to glance out one of the windows. The view that he found there was one high above a city that he vaguely registered as Washington DC, and even though he’d known better than to hope, he still felt a stark disappointment at not finding green grass and wildflowers and a little backyard with a garage in which to experiment.

Still, Fitz _knew_ that Jemma had to be somewhere nearby, because if the Framework was supposed to be some approximation of their lives, then Jemma obviously had to be in his; there was just no other option. In the end, he came to the conclusion that she’d simply gone off to work before him, always more of a morning person than he’d ever been.

Very briefly, he did an exploration of what he assumed was _somehow_ their home, but it was all cold, impersonal decorations designed to show wealth more than anything else. There was no Tardis cookie jar or silly framed selfies or posters of space, and the whole place just felt…empty, as though it wasn’t even really lived in at all.

And then, of course, there was his _hair_ , which he couldn’t even begin to imagine that Jemma would’ve ever let him go through with in any reality (she was quite fond of the curls, after all, and had always enjoyed dragging her fingers through them), but apparently everything there was all topsy-turvy.

Finally deciding not to waste anymore time trying to figure out what turn in his life had led him _there_ , Fitz left the flat, going down in a private elevator to the opulent lobby of what was supposedly his building. It was only once he was outside, however, that he began to wonder what it was that he was supposed to do now; he had no resources, no ideas on how to find the others, and no clue as to where _he_ even was.

Fitz squinted around at the surrounding buildings, attempting to find something even vaguely familiar, so that he could try and make his way to the park where he and Daisy had planned to meet and had hidden their backdoor out of the Framework. But, then he was startled by a voice asking unsurely, “Doctor Fitz?”

Glancing around, he found an older man a few feet away, standing beside a _limo_ of all things, holding the door open for him and looking quietly concerned. Nervously clearing his throat, Fitz hurried over and hesitated only a moment before sliding dutifully into the backseat. “Thanks,” he mumbled just before the door shut behind him.

It was a few minutes into the drive before it occurred to Fitz to ask, “Hey, um…where is it that we’re headed…exactly?”

A long stretch of silence followed his question, and he winced deeply, mentally berating himself for sounding so pathetic and confused when this was supposed to be his _life_ – but, he was also quick to remind himself, it didn’t really matter, did it? The man driving this limo wasn’t even _real_ , nor was the car or anything around them; they were all just bits of code, and bits of code couldn’t _judge_ him (even though it definitely felt as though they could).

“I’m taking you to work, of course,” the driver finally answered, his tone carefully measured. “Are you alright, sir?”

Fidgeting a bit on the squeaky leather backseat, Fitz nodded perhaps a bit more enthusiastically than he should have, assuring the driver quickly, “Oh yeah, I’m just fine, thanks.” When the words didn’t seem to quite convince the man, Fitz couldn’t find it in himself care – bits of code, after all.

Instead, he began anxiously tapping his fingers against his thigh as he began planning on the best way to find Jemma, get out of wherever it was that they worked there, and then go find Daisy at the planned meeting place. Convincing Jemma to leave work was going to be difficult, for sure, but maybe in this faux-reality where he was apparently rich, Jemma could possibly be a tad more lenient when it came to following rules?

 _Probably not_ , he decided almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, a fond smile curling his lips. That was just fine with him, though; the normalcy of it all would be nice after the sheer shock of his morning already.

It wasn’t much longer before the car came to a stop, though Fitz couldn’t see much through the heavily tinted windows of the backseat. He was just about to reach automatically for the door handle when the door sprung open itself, and he was so surprised that he stumbled awkwardly out of the car, nearly tripping on his own feet.

He was quickly distracted from the thin-lipped, very much _not_ amused look on his driver’s face, though, when his gaze landed on what was clearly the Triskellion – with a _HYDRA symbol_ on the side.

Suddenly, he had the feeling that getting Jemma to leave work with him was no longer the most difficult part of the plan.

-

It wasn’t much more time before Fitz was pacing restlessly in the office that his security team had led him to not long ago (and thank god for that; he assumed that he’d looked so lost and confused and terrified standing in the lobby of the Triskellion that they’d taken pity on him – or assumed that he was having some sort of mental break, which felt highly plausible at the moment). The office, of course, was just as excessive and grand as his flat had been, and was just as empty and emotionless as well (but, it was _HYDRA_ and it all made sense now).

He couldn’t _imagine_ a world where he and Jemma were _HYDRA_ , even if it was a virtual reality, and he wondered wildly what the hell had gone wrong; what had Radcliffe done to this world? What did he change that had brought them _here_?

Fitz didn’t have any of the answers to those questions, unfortunately, and he wouldn’t until he found someone that _did_ have them – and, serendipitously, it was at that moment that he finally spotted the computer sitting on top of a wide desk in the next room over (because yes, his office wasn’t just _one_ room).

With a surge of pure relief, he hurried over, dropping back into the desk chair and searching instantly for how to turn the computer on. He was quick to notice that there was no on/off button, and instead found that it had both thumb and retina scanners, which were much more easily passed (it _was_ his office, after all) than a password would have been.

The computer screen welcomed him as ‘Dr. Leopold Fitz’, but he pointedly ignored everything else that the computer contained in favor of opening a search bar with which to search their database; if he could just find Jemma, if he could just figure out whatever floor in the building her lab was on, then he could go to her and get the hell them out of this nightmare already.

‘ _Jemma Simmons_ ’ was typed shortly into the search bar, and the few seconds that Fitz had to wait as the computer completed the search were excruciating, but then finally something popped up and there was her picture and warmth flooded him and then he saw –

 _Deceased_.

Time seemed to stretch on for a long, breathless moment as Fitz tried to figure out what had happened. It was her picture, but…but something _had_ to have gone wrong somewhere, things just weren’t adding up.

“What?” he asked himself in an absent whisper, his fingers beginning to shake imperceptibly where they hovered over the keyboard. “No. No, there’s a mistake, there’s…” With an even stronger sense of urgency than before, Fitz typed in her name in again, and again, and again, but it wasn’t coming up any different and there was _oh god_ , there was an obituary, and it said that she had died in a contamination incident at the Academy, but there was also a report that stated that she’d been _executed_ and dumped in a mass grave and…

 _And he had given the order_.

Fitz felt his empty stomach give a threatening roll and he couldn’t breathe and he was well aware of what happened to the real body when the avatar died and she _couldn’t_ be, she couldn’t be and he…

Feeling faint, he was on the verge of passing out from sheer panic and horror and the continuing thought of _I killed her I killed her I killed her_ when the door to his office opened without preamble (though he was sure it had probably been prefaced with a knock that he’d been unable to hear over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears). A bulky man dressed in all black that must’ve been a member of his security team was leaning in the open door, saying something about a breach with a prisoner and that he needed to come with them immediately.

Unable to find the capacity to argue or make an excuse or talk his way out of it, Fitz moved mechanically, allowing himself to be dragged up and out of the room and into a nearby elevator. The two men with him were briefing him on the situation, but he wasn’t even attempting to listen, turning the sound of their voices into dull background noise.

What was the point? Why even bother playing along, getting out of the building, meeting up with Daisy – what was the point of getting out of the Framework when there was nothing for him to go back to?

He felt a brief, flash of anger through the resounding emptiness then, and he couldn’t _believe_ that Radcliffe had put Jemma in the Framework just to die, he’d claimed to be about _preserving_ life, he’d claimed to care about Fitz, only to take away the most important thing in his life and –

The anger was sapped out of him in an instant as he remembered hollowly that it hadn’t been Radcliffe that had given the order, that it hadn't been his finger on the metaphorical trigger. It had been _him_ , it had been his avatar, and _I killed her I killed her I killed her_.

He wasn’t conscious of much as his guards led him down hallway after stark white hallway, until one of them stepped forward while the other moved to block Fitz defensively, and he noticed the first pulling a gun on a defenseless man. And though he was empty inside, Fitz still opened his mouth to stop him, but he was too late (as always) and the guard had already fired and it was just a _taser_ , thank god (but it didn’t matter, did it? They were all just bits of code and the only thing that mattered there was already gone, thanks to him).

Through the fog of despair and pain and the urge to just lie down and cry for awhile, to tear his heart clear from his chest, Fitz recognized the man writhing in pain on the floor at his feet, just briefly, and –

“Fitz?”

Hastily, he lifted his gaze to meet Daisy’s, finding overwhelming relief in hers, and she smiled, but Fitz couldn’t muster anything more than the dead-eyed look that he was sure had been written plainly on his face since he’d been taken from his office. Daisy looked terribly confused and worried, shooting glances at the guards, who were now asking him what to do with the prisoner.

He muttered something vaguely like, “You figure it out,” before Daisy was grasping his hand and leading him away swiftly down the hall, to an empty office that she locked behind them.

As soon as the lock had clicked securely into place, Daisy threw her arms around Fitz in a tight hug, breathing a heavy sigh of relief against his shoulder. “Oh _Fitz_ , I’m so glad to see you! May’s not May and I have no idea where anyone else is and –”

“Jemma’s dead,” Fitz cut in to inform her tonelessly, unable to keep the horrible truth to himself any longer when it was the only thought currently rattling around in his brain (and would likely be the only thought that he ever had again).

“ _What_?” Daisy gasped, leaning back from Fitz far enough to meet his eyes with her own wide-eyed, horrified gaze. “Are…are you sure? What happened?”

“I looked it up in the HYDRA database, Daisy, where it said that I gave the orders to execute her along with hundreds of other people at the Academy, so yeah, I’m pretty sure.” Angrily, he ran a hand through his dumb styled hair and clenched his jaw tightly shut to keep in the guilt and the grief and the pain.

“Maybe it’s not true, maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s _fake_ ,” she offered reasonably, though her tone was a touch desperate. “Radcliffe wouldn’t have let anything happen to her, and everything else is definitely _not_ what it seems.” Reaching out to him once more, Daisy laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze to try and anchor him back in the moment. “Before you sound the funeral bells, let’s do some digging and figure out what’s going on here and what’s as it seems and what’s a tangled web of lies – it _is_ HYDRA after all, Fitz.”

Jemma’s smiling face in her identification photo with ‘deceased’ spelled out next to it was still flashing before Fitz’s eyes, but he also knew that Daisy had a point – there was no reason for him to be jumping to conclusions when he hadn’t seen any kind of concrete proof. And truly, the scientist in him _knew_ that, but he’d just been caught so off-guard by the idea that she was dead... But, Fitz knew it was true that Radcliffe wasn’t one to waste life, or brilliance in any form, and he’d always been impressed by Jemma’s intellect; he wouldn’t have allowed Jemma to perish in the Framework, even if it had been at Fitz’s own, unknowing hand.

“You’re…you’re right,” Fitz said slowly, giving a tiny nod in acknowledgement. There was still a part of him that was mourning and fracturing apart and aching inside because there was still a chance that it was all true, but he was going to ignore the grief for now and focus instead on proving himself wrong – besides, Jemma had survived months upon months at both the _real_ HYDRA and on a hell planet with an evil Inhuman, so what was a few days in a virtual reality to her?

Daisy’s lips quirked up into a relieved smile and she nodded as well. “Good. Okay, what’s our game plan on getting out of here, then?”

No sooner than Daisy had said the words than the door to the office began to open behind them. “I thought you locked that,” Fitz hissed as he searched for something nearby with which to defend himself and Daisy, in case whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t friendly (and it was HYDRA, so that was a pretty safe bet), and finding nothing of use.

“I _did_ ,” Daisy whispered back fiercely, just as the door opened fully to reveal…

“Leopold,” AIDA greeted him in clear relief as she stepped further into the room, as though this was an entirely normal occurrence. “There you are; I’ve been looking for you since you arrived this morning.”

Blinking rapidly, Fitz turned to Daisy at the same moment that she turned to him, and they stared at each other blankly for a long moment.

How in the _hell_ were they going to get out of _this_ one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	73. Framework Speculation/AU Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the Framework fic in ch 48, which would probably be a good thing to read first, but I wouldn't say it's strictly necessary

“ _We’re_ Fitzsimmons _, and we’re meant to be together. No world, no matter how far away or how perfectly programmed, can change that_.”

For a lengthy moment, all Leopold could seem to do was gape wordlessly up at Jemma (was that even her real name?), unable to move a muscle or form a single thought, too taken aback by her impassioned words. But, then reality struck him that he was being pinned down by someone who was clearly crazy and his security was still a phone call away.

Jemma was gazing down at him intensely, her sharp gaze searching his face for… _something_ , recognition or understanding perhaps, and Leopold unexpectedly felt a bit bad for her. She obviously believed that what she was saying was true – but, it wasn’t his responsibility to play along with someone’s ridiculous fantasy world.

So, he snapped at her, “You’re insane,” then he reached up to get a grip around her wrists, struggling for a moment with her (she was stronger than she looked, that was for sure) before he managed to overpower her and slip away from the armchair that she’d had him trapped in. He didn’t want to hurt her, of course (which Leopold had to admit was strange – she should mean nothing more to him than anyone that he passed on the street, so why had there been a gut-punch of guilt when he’d grasped her wrists and hauled her bodily away from him?), but he needed to put an end to this situation as quickly as possible. “I’m calling security.”

“No!” Jemma called immediately to his back. “Wait! Fitz…”

Leopold froze, and maybe it was because of her desperate tone or the fear that she was obviously trying to hide that had bled into her voice, or perhaps it was the fact that she’d called him _Fitz_. He’d never been referred to by his last name with any sort of frequency in his life, but it almost seemed as though it had slipped past Jemma’s lips without her notice, as though it was a name that she spoke often.

Thinking back now, Leopold remembered that she’d called him that before, when she’d been spouting her nonsense about a virtual reality. He hadn’t even registered it until just then, and for some reason, it stirred something inside of him.

With a quiet sigh, he half-turned back to face her, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw her, sprawled in the armchair with her hair slightly mussed from the brief struggle and her eyes round with alarm, and she looked so small and scared that it made his chest _ache_.

When Jemma seemed to realize that she had his attention, she tentatively sat up fully and told him in a low, but firm voice at odds with the worried furrow of her brow, “You can call security, and I’ll go quietly, if you can tell me with absolute honesty that there isn’t something that’s not adding up here. If you can tell me that there’s not something about me that feels familiar, even though we’ve never met before today.”

Her words automatically had Leopold thinking back to that sensation that he’d gotten when they’d touched for the first time, that odd current of electricity. He had no explanation for it, but her voice and her eyes and her smile and her _face_ …they all felt like things that he’d memorized long ago, when he knew for a fact that he’d remember meeting the woman that seemed to come straight from his dreams.

Wildly, for a moment, Leopold thought to himself that maybe…maybe there was a reason for all of that.

But, then he shook his head sharply, and told Jemma confidently, “The technology that you’re describing, a virtual reality where an entire _life_ can be written…it just hasn’t been invented yet. It’s a pipe dream, that’s all, and you truly _are_ insane if you believe in it.”

With that said, he took another step toward the panic button installed on the wall beside his front door, the one that would have his entire security team descending on his flat within minutes. But, he came to another abrupt halt when a hand slid along his bicep, fingers curling around it and gently tugging to get him to stop, and he obeyed it automatically.

Leopold turned to meet Jemma’s eyes, and she murmured, “Fitz, I need you to trust me. I know that it’s asking a lot, but _you_ helped to develop this technology, you and Dr. Radcliffe, and it’s been twisted by something evil and something that we couldn’t even begin to understand because it wasn’t…it wasn’t science and it wasn’t within the realm of the possible. But now it _is_ and…you’ve been taken from me, our team has been taken, and Daisy and I are doing our best to make it right and save everyone, but we can’t do it alone.”

For a fair few moments, Leopold didn’t say anything, just watched her watching him, and he could see it in her eyes that she _truly_ believed all of this. With that, finally, he came to a decision; he was probably going to regret it later, but perhaps he could indulge her for just a _little_ bit – she did seem harmless, and what if, in the tiniest sliver of chances, there was actually some merit to what she was saying?

However, before he agreed to help her, he asked her, his voice low, as though he was afraid of being overheard despite the fact that there was no one around but them, “In this supposed ‘real’ world, were we…”

Jemma’s eyebrows rose slightly, and she pressed her lips tightly together. After a moment, she dipped her head, released a soft sigh, then lifted it once more to meet his searching gaze. Leopold noted that her eyes were suspiciously bright now. In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked, “Does it matter?”

Leopold felt a surge of…he couldn’t quite put a name to it – all he knew was that the idea that it didn’t matter wasn’t _right_ , and he replied instantly, “Of course it –” Cutting himself just as hastily, he took a breath, then tried again quietly, “It matters, Jemma.”

Her lips quirked up into a rueful smile at the corners, and she nodded absently, as though she’d already been expecting that answer. “Yes Fitz,” she said simply, “we are.”

He noticed her obvious use of the present tense, her refusal to put whatever it was that she thought was between them in the past, and it tugged at his heart. Privately, Leopold couldn’t help but marvel at the way that this woman, whoever she really was, had made him feel more in the past hour than anyone had in a very, very long time.

He couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, that was the real reason that he’d decided to go along with her ‘nonsense’ for now.

Regardless, Leopold nodded in understanding, then told her simply, “I’ll help you, Jemma, as much as I can. But, if HYDRA gets wind of me doing something like this…”

Jemma made a face, as though she’d tasted something sour, then she asked sharply, “What does _HYDRA_ have to do with this?”

He shrugged, a strange, uncomfortable feeling filling him (he’d never felt even remotely uncomfortable about the things that HYDRA did, where had _that_ come from?). “It just…seems like the sort of thing they wouldn’t approve of, that’s all.” Regaining his bearings a bit, Leopold smirked and added, “They can be a bit…ah…strict, you know.”

She rolled her eyes, and it had an automatic grin tugging at his lips, something about the gesture absurdly familiar. With a scoff, she replied, “I’ve noticed, thanks.” Then, her palm skimmed down the length of his arm, her hand catching his, and there was that same surge of _something_ , some indefinable _rightness_. She squeezed her fingers lightly around his and murmured, “Thank you, Fitz.”

In response, Leopold returned the squeeze, then asked, “What do we do now, then?”

-

Truthfully, Jemma had thought that it would be much harder than it had been.

This Fitz (or “Leopold”, as he preferred to be called, which had Jemma mentally wincing on his behalf) was so far removed from _her_ Fitz, only seeming concerned with himself and the women that he always seemed to have around, and she’d been afraid that she wouldn’t even be able to convince him to _care_ , let alone that what she was telling him was the truth.

But, he did seem to feel _something_ , whether it be the inexplicable feeling that something wasn’t right there, or the connection that they’d always shared despite their history being undone and rewritten; either way that meant that, much to Jemma’s relief, he’d agreed to help her – for now, at least.

“Holy shit,” Daisy (who Fitz had incredulously greeted as “ _Skye_?”) whispered after excusing them and tugging Jemma away from Fitz and into the kitchen of her Framework avatar’s flat. “You actually got him here!”

“Yes, well…” Jemma shrugged one shoulder, brushing off the importance of doing so. She didn’t think that now was the time to get into a discussion about how she’d managed to convince Fitz’s Framework self to meet Daisy with her; time was of the essence, as it always seemed to be.

However, Daisy clearly felt differently. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, then she gasped in something between delight and disbelief as it occurred to her. “You _seduced_ him, didn’t you?”

Jemma’s cheeks grew warm as she was hit with the memory of kissing Fitz in the elevator, hands and lips and heat… It had been _wonderful_ – for the brief few moments that she’d been able to forget everything and imagine that it was _her_ Fitz, and they hadn’t been so cruelly torn apart yet again and the man in her arms wasn’t some pale imitation of her best friend. The sudden realization that it _wasn’t_ her Fitz with her had been just as cruel.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” she finally replied, trying to keep her tone firm and even, but though she’d gotten better at lying over the years, it was clear from Daisy’s growing smirk that she hadn’t managed to quite pull it off this time.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Simmons.” She chuckled to herself for a moment, then shook her head and nodded toward the living room, where they’d left Fitz. “Why don’t we go get started so that we can get the hell out of here and return to a world where you don’t _have_ to seduce Fitz.”

Jemma scoffed playfully as she followed Daisy out of the kitchen, muttering so that Fitz couldn’t hear, “It’s not as though I had to put in much effort _here_ either. In fact, I think it was a harder sell in the _real_ world.”

Daisy’s snort of laughter had Fitz glancing up in surprise from where he’d been studying some of the framed art on the walls, but she quickly waved his concern off. “Sorry, sorry.” She cleared her throat, shot Jemma a look, then explained to Fitz, “I’m going to need you to access the HYDRA server for me, Fitz. I could do it myself, but you have a higher security clearance than I do.”

“Leopold,” he corrected, causing Daisy to make a face, then he narrowed his eyes a bit suspiciously. “What do you need me to do that for?”

“HYDRA keeps files on almost everyone, right?” Jemma asked, unable to help but note that Fitz hadn’t corrected _her_ the many times that she’d called him ‘Fitz’ since revealing her true intentions in his flat earlier that day. She couldn’t allow herself to think about what that meant, though. When Fitz nodded warily, she explained, “We need to use their server to look for files on the rest of our team, so that we can figure out who they are here and more importantly, _where_ they are.”

“So you’re just using it to find people then?” Fitz clarified, seeming relieved.

Jemma nodded, smiling reassuringly. “We’re going to do our best not to put you in a position that you don’t want to be in, Fitz, I promise.”

“Alright,” he agreed simply, and Jemma didn’t miss the glance that Daisy shot in her direction. “Let’s get started, then.” He perched on the edge of Daisy’s couch, opening the laptop sitting on her coffee table, and beginning to type at the same rapid-fire pace that was a trademark of the Fitz of their world. The familiar sight had a small smile curving Jemma’s lips.

As he was working on pulling the servers up and getting them access, Daisy came to stand beside Jemma, lowering her voice to a whisper as she admitted, “Okay, I have never had more faith that this will work than I do now; even when Fitz has been brainwashed into being _HYDRA_ , he’ll still do anything for Jemma Simmons and that’s got to mean that he’s in there somewhere.”

It was the same thing that Jemma had been thinking all day, and the one thing that she couldn’t allow herself to trust – if it turned out that it wasn’t true, if the Fitz that she loved was truly lost to her, she didn’t think that she’d be able to handle it.

So, to Daisy, she said simply, “We can only hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	74. 1x22 AU Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel/Part II to the 1x22 AU in ch 55

_“You’re my best friend in the world, you know.”_

_“Yeah, and you’re more than that, Jemma.”_

The words of Fitz’s sudden and unexpected confession continued to ring in her ears long after the sound of helicopter blades had failed to block them out, the tingling from the gentle pressure of Fitz’s lips against hers still lingering even now.

Of course, there was the one _other_ thought that was pounding through Jemma’s head as well: _what was I thinking?_

Covering her face with her hands, Jemma released a muffled, despairing groan into them as she leant heavily back against the wall behind her. Some time ago, Fury’s helicopter had dropped them off at what had proved to be another of his secret bases, only for him to take off again in search of Coulson and the others. All before she and Fitz had even been able to make an argument for joining him to save their team, no less.

But, it was all for the best, Jemma supposed; Fitz had been in need of immediate medical, and even she could admit that they wouldn’t be of much help in their current condition.

However, this also left them almost entirely alone in the base that Eric Koenig’s apparently identical brother Billy called the Playground, and after everything that had happened between them while they were floating there in the ocean…

Shaking her head, Jemma gave another quiet, pathetic groan, unable to believe how abruptly things had taken a turn for the worst. She’d been entirely aware of the slight but still noticeable distance Fitz had been putting between them as of late, but she’d never have _guessed_ …

Fitz’s stumbled, deathbed confession was one thing, they could’ve come back from that – Jemma would _never_ hold Fitz’s feelings against him, and she’d hardly let such a thing come between them (even if the equilibrium of their relationship would’ve likely have been off for a time afterwards) – but how she’d responded! Not by being an understanding, comforting friend, but by growing angry at the very idea of Fitz being unable to believe that she could’ve had feelings for him in return and then _kissing him_!

_What was I **thinking**?_

What kind of friend did something like that? Fitz had _just_ told her that he was…that he had feelings of a romantic nature for her, and she made it all worse by _kissing him_. Sure, she’d been a bit emotionally compromised by the realization that they were going to die and that her best friend was suddenly – suddenly had _feelings_ for her, but _still_ …

“Jemma?”

Startled, Jemma lifted her head from her hands, only to find Fitz hovering just to her right, his arm now in a sling and a concerned frown tugging at his lips. His surprising appearance momentarily robbed her of the ability to form words, and Fitz shifted awkwardly at the silence pressing in around them.

Rubbing the back of his neck with the hand of his uninjured arm, he cleared his throat and explained unprompted, “I could hear you pacing out here and then it stopped and I waited but…when you didn’t come in, I…” He trailed off, thumbing uncomfortably over his shoulder at the room in the med bay where he’d been getting fixed up.

“I…I was going to come in,” Jemma attempted to explain, her cheeks warming at being caught having a minor breakdown in the hallway. She only hoped that the dim lights of the base were enough to hide the reddening tint to her cheeks.

When she didn’t go on, Fitz’s brow furrowed and he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed simply, and she knew that he wouldn’t press her for anything more than that.

However, she knew that she owed him some sort of explanation for her actions (if she could manage to find one for herself first, that was), and they no doubt needed to talk about what had occurred in the ocean. They’d turned avoiding sensitive issues and emotional landmines into an art form recently, but Jemma had the terrible feeling that brushing this latest incident under the rug could spell disaster for their friendship, and she couldn’t bear to let that happen.

So, she inhaled a steadying breath and tried to keep her voice from trembling with nerves as she told him, “Fitz, we need to talk.”

Almost instantly, his expression collapsed, and the fear in his eyes tugged at Jemma’s heart. However, in the next second, he’d pressed his lips into a line and dropped his gaze from hers, effectively hiding his emotions from her. “Alright.”

There was a lounge-like area a little ways down the hall, and it was only once they were perched on the couch with an almost ridiculous (especially for _them_ ) amount of space between them that Jemma started, “Fitz, I…”

It was as far as she got, though, before Fitz hastily interrupted, “I’m sorry, Jemma.”

Her eyes had been locked on her folded hands in her lap, but at his words, Jemma glanced up to find Fitz glaring down at his knees. His good hand was tapping an almost frenzied rhythm against his thigh, and his jaw was visibly clenched. “Whatever for?” she asked, blinking a couple of times in disbelief. After all, if anyone had anything to apologize for, it was _her_.

Slowly, Fitz raised his head, turning to look at her so that she could see the way that his mouth had dropped open in a gape. “Are you… _Jemma_ , come on, I’m the one that made everything…” He waved his hand between them, finishing tightly, “ _weird_. I never should’ve said all that, but…I mean, I never thought we would…”

Feeling that same tickle of burgeoning anger that had led to her…well, _assault_ back in the ocean, Jemma narrowed her eyes and asked coolly, “So, what you’re saying is that if we hadn’t been dying, you’d never have told me?”

“Of course not!” Fitz threw his hand up in exasperation, his eyes rounded, as though _she_ was the one being outrageous.

“Why?”

He blinked a couple of times, then repeated her question flatly, “Why?” When she gave a sharp nod, he shook his head slightly. “Because…because it’s just…it’s not your problem, alright? I don’t…I never want anything to ruin our friendship, and how I feel could change things and strain our relationship and –”

“That could never happen,” Jemma couldn’t help but interrupt to assure him hastily.

“It already _is_ , Jemma,” Fitz disagreed. His statement started out fierce, but by the end, he simply sounded…exhausted, defeated, his shoulders drooping slightly.

“That’s not…it’s not because of what you said, Fitz,” she insisted, one of her hands twitching as she fought the urge to reach out and place it comfortingly over his; she didn’t think that touching him would be helpful at the moment, no matter how much she wanted to.

Clearly taken aback, he furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

Embarrassment singing through her veins and mixing with the now-cooling ire, Jemma explained, “Fitz, it’s _my_ fault, I’m the one that… I… What I did was inexcusable and horrible, given that you had just told me that you…about your feelings, and for me to…do such a thing was truly awful. I’m so sorry, Fitz.”

“Are you…are you talking about…” He cleared his throat again, shifting a bit in his seat, and she just barely caught sight of his pink cheeks before he bent his head. “Y’know… _kissing_ me?”

Jemma squirmed slightly as well, lacing her fingers together in her lap, then unlacing them. “Yes.”

“I’m not _mad_ at you for doing that, Jemma. _Seriously_.” Her cheeks flared with heat at the emphasis he put on the word. “I’m just…confused, really.” Almost shyly, he lifted his head to meet her gaze once more, as though searching for the answers that he sought in her eyes. But, if anyone would be able to figure out what even Jemma didn’t know about her own mind, it would surely be Fitz – he’d always been able to read her better than anyone else.

“I imagine that you are, yes.” For a moment, Jemma thought back to the ocean. She could remember being so _upset_ at the idea that Fitz had automatically assumed that she didn’t have romantic feelings toward him in return (which she didn’t – at least, she didn’t _think_ she did), and could remember being outraged at the idea that _anyone_ wouldn’t want someone as incredible and brilliant and warm-hearted as Fitz. The kiss had come out of nowhere for her just as much as it had for Fitz, a knee-jerk reaction that she hadn’t realized that she’d had until it was already happening and it was too late.

The strangest part of it all, though, was the realization that nothing about it had felt _wrong_ or uncomfortable like she would’ve thought it might, and she’d likely have _kept_ kissing him if they hadn’t ended up taking an unexpected dip in the water.

“Was it…um…just to make me feel better or…?” Fitz sounded miserable at the very idea, and it tore her heart to pieces.

“No! I’d never do that to you, Fitz,” Jemma promised hastily, not even thinking about it before she reached out to catch his hand in hers, curling her fingers around his palm. The feel of Fitz’s hands in hers was something Jemma was intimately familiar with after ten years of friendship and partnership, and she could identify the texture of his particular calluses by touch alone. There had always been some indefinable _rightness_ to being close to Fitz, to having his hand linked with hers, a comfort to it that she’d never found anywhere else, and now was no exception.

For a lengthy moment, he was silent, simply gazing at where their joined hands rested on his knee. Then, however, he finally spoke up to ask hoarsely, “So, why…?”

Jemma struggled to find the words to explain, but in the end, she could only shake her head and offer quietly, “I…don’t know, it just…felt like what I needed to do in the moment.”

Fitz’s eyes flickered up to hers before dropping back to their hands, and he hunched his shoulders in around himself defensively as he mumbled, “Yeah, well…just to be clear, don’t feel like you…y’know, need to be doing that for my benefit anymore, okay?”

She felt that brief flicker of irritation once more and, absurdly, the words, _and what about for **my** benefit?_ flitted through her mind. It had blood rushing up to her cheeks, her eyes growing wide in shock, and…

 _Oh_.

 ** _Oh_**.

Well, that _would_ make a bit more sense, wouldn’t it?

Absently, Jemma slid her now trembling hand away from Fitz’s, sitting back heavily against the couch cushions as her mind raced, flashing through ten years’ worth of memories and trying to figure out when things _changed_ , why she hadn’t ever _realized_ …

“Jemma?”

Fitz’s voice was laced with concern, but she was too caught up in coming to the startling but somehow…not quite _unexpected_ realization that Fitz was more than her best friend as well to answer him at the moment. Everything that had never quite fit, had never quite made sense, was suddenly falling into place and clearing up, all of the answers as to why she’d wanted to spend every waking moment with Fitz, as to why she’d never found their extreme closeness odd when others tended to, as to why she’d rather be with Fitz than romantic partners were the same; _because she **loved**_ _him_.

Leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and covering her parted lips with her hands, Jemma had the sudden and horrible thought, _would I have ever even noticed my feelings for what they were if Fitz had never told me how he felt?_

However, the simply unbearable thought was soon replaced by, _Fitz has feelings for me and I have feelings for Fitz_. An altogether more pleasant thought, it had Jemma’s lips curving into a disbelieving smile, a soft laugh huffing from her. It was a freeing realization, and though she was still reeling from the day’s revelations, she felt lighter than she had in _weeks_.

“Jemma, are you okay? You’re kinda scaring me over here.”

Taking a couple of breaths, Jemma dropped her hands and turned to smile warmly at Fitz, nodding. “I’m…I’m fine, Fitz, thank you.”

For a moment, she considered holding her tongue, considered waiting to tell him about her own feelings until she’d had more time to adjust to the idea, until their fight against HYDRA had slowed down and they’d had a chance to get back on even footing in their friendship before she threw it off-balance once more.

But, she reasoned, he’d already taken a chance in revealing his feelings, had been brave and honest with her, and she owed him the same in return. Additionally, now that she _knew_ , Jemma wasn’t sure that she’d be _able_ to keep it to herself for very long.

And, well, they deserved to have _something_ good happen finally, didn’t they?

With that in mind, Jemma leaned across the space between them that now felt far too wide, sliding her hand along the back of his neck. Fitz was clearly startled by the gesture, remaining stiff under her touch even as her eyes slipped closed and she brushed her lips against his. It sent a thrill down her spine, and she wondered idly why they hadn’t been doing this all along.

Against his unyielding lips, she murmured, hoping he’d understand, “This one’s for _my_ benefit.”

And sure enough, after another moment of hesitation, Fitz melted under her touch and returned her kiss for the first time. It was still slightly unsure and fearful, as though he was expecting her to pull away and redraw the lines of their friendship that the kiss had blurred, but if she had anything to say about it, that wouldn’t last for long.

For now, though, Jemma was content to know that they were both alive and relatively unharmed, that they were now more than friends (and quite possibly always _had_ been without either of them ever recognizing it), and that kissing Leopold Fitz was something that she intended to do for a very, _very_ long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	75. 5x12 Post-Ep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers for 5x12!!!
> 
> Written super quickly today because I have far too many emotions about last night's episode. This fic is meant to somewhat parallel my 3x18 post-ep fic in ch 47, but it's definitely not necessary to have read that first.

Jemma’s eyes fluttered open, and she automatically threw an absent, bleary glance around her. For a moment, she was disconcerted at the sight of the walls around her of what was obviously a bedroom in the Lighthouse, unsure if she was once more waking up years in the future with little hope of ever returning home.

But, then she blinked a couple more times, and happened to catch sight of a white dress carefully draped over a desk chair, a suit jacket hanging precariously off the edge of a dresser, and the memories of their wedding hit her with enough force to knock her breathless.

 _Their wedding_.

A grin spreading across her face, Jemma thumbed at the ring on her left hand, twisting it lovingly around her finger before carefully rolling over onto her other side, so as to gaze uninterrupted at Fitz. It had been so _long_ since she’d woken up beside him – since before the Framework, even, which now felt like a lifetime ago. The sight of his beloved face on the pillow next to hers was almost too much for her, his lips slightly parted and his eyelashes fanned out delicately over his cheeks and she just loved him so _much_.

Unable to resist any longer, she reached out to touch him, tracing the shell of his ear and stroking her fingertips over his stubbled cheek, running her thumb along his bottom lip. However, she made sure to keep her touch light so as not to wake him, trying desperately to allow him just a bit more time to rest. None of them had gotten much sleep at all lately, and he certainly deserved a good rest after everything they’d been through.

Though it hardly seemed possible, it had been just a week ago that she’d been held prisoner and enslaved by a sociopathic alien, hoping that wherever Fitz was in the past, he was safe, and fearing in the darkness of night as she lay on a tiny, uncomfortable cot that she’d never see him again.

Now, _now_ , Fitz had made it to the future to rescue them, they’d managed to return to the past, their present, and above all else, they’d gotten _married_.

Jemma still couldn’t quite believe it – she’d married her best friend yesterday. She and Fitz were _married_ , and no matter what happened from that moment on, nothing could take that away from them. The thought alone had the already face-splitting smile that she was wearing widening, until her cheeks hurt with the force of it.

When she’d first laid eyes on Fitz (over a decade ago now, though some days it felt like just yesterday, and others it felt like so much longer), she could’ve never imagined that one day, she’d be waking up beside him with a ring on her finger and more love than any human body should be able to contain inside of her. She could’ve never imagined that that awkward, pasty genius that made her feel like she truly belonged somewhere for the first time would one day be her _husband_ – if only because she’d been utterly blind to what the way that he made her feel actually meant.

She shook her head at herself for being so naïve, as she often did, but decided there, in that moment, to no longer dwell on how long the road to where they were now had taken, nor on the twists and turns, the bumps along the way. They were together, they were married, and that was more than enough. From now on, she was going to focus solely on the present – and well, their future.

Even though Jemma knew that the end of the world (and even more pressing, Coulson’s newly revealed predicament) was looming over them, she couldn’t help but think then about the future, about building a family with Fitz, as she’d said in her vows.

For a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in a fantasy of that cottage in Perthshire, watching from the back porch with a cup of tea in hand and a smile on her face as the sun set over Fitz playing in the grass with their beautiful, brilliant, curly-haired children.

The utter perfection of the image alone had her heart in her throat and tears filling her eyes. The thought of the fantasy actually being a _reality_ someday, though, the fact that it was closer now than it ever had been before…

It was almost too much for her to bear.

Jemma was startled out of her thoughts a moment later, though, when she heard the sound of footsteps in the hall outside their bedroom, paired with the faint sound of voices as whoever it was passed by, engaged in conversation. She threw a brief glance at the clock on the bedside table, and rationally, she knew that she should get up, get dressed, and join the rest of the team, but…well, admittedly, she was feeling a tad selfish that morning.

Yesterday had been her wedding day, after all, and she simply wanted to spend just a few more minutes watching her husband sleep. Was that really too much to ask?

It was just then, however, that Fitz’s eyes opened slid open, and after a couple of slow blinks, his gaze landed on her. Jemma’s beaming grin was back in an instant, and she greeted him softly, lovingly, “Good morning, husband.”

For a moment, he seemed to be knocked absolutely speechless by his new title, and the awed reverence in his gaze and the slightly disbelieving upward tilt of his lips had Jemma’s heart skipping a beat in her chest.

“Good morning, wife,” he finally managed to whisper in reply, his voice low and rough with obvious emotion.

 _Wife_. Jemma couldn’t help the soft, almost incredulous little laugh that she gave in response. It was one thing to know that she was now Fitz’s wife – it was another thing entirely to hear him _say it_.

“I love you,” she murmured, curving her hand along his jaw, gently tugging him just the little bit closer so that she could rest her forehead against his.

“I love you.” His words sounded strained under the force of his emotions, and she was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer volume of love for her that filled his gaze.

Closing her eyes against the sudden threat of tears, Jemma kissed him then, sinking into it, into her best friend and her _husband_. Fitz’s hand came up to cup the back of her head, seeming just as desperate to hold her close now as he had been the previous night, not allowing even a breath of space between them as they’d made love for the first time as a married couple. And much like last night, Jemma pressed in closer and closer until her heart was against his, never wanting to be parted from him again.

After a lengthy few moments, Fitz was the one to finally break the kiss, sliding his hand down from her head to her cheek. He smiled sadly as he admitted, “As much as I’d love to stay in bed with you all day…”

“Duty calls,” Jemma finished, mirroring his expression and nodding in understanding, finding his lips for one more kiss before regretfully rolling away from him to get out of bed.

They dressed in relative silence, no words really needed, though Jemma had to marvel at how strange it was that everything felt slightly…different now, as though even the most mundane of tasks was somehow made brighter by the fact that she was doing them alongside her _husband_. Even simply going through the motions of getting ready in the morning was brightened by the realization, and it brought a tiny smile to her lips.

When they were finished, Fitz took a step toward the door, but Jemma suddenly needed to know something, to have it confirmed aloud, so she called after him, “Fitz?”

He paused, turning back to her curiously. “Yeah?”

“Promise me something?” she prompted, closing the space between them and catching his cheek in her palm to keep his gaze on hers.

“Anything,” Fitz answered without hesitation, lifting his hand to cover hers on his face.

“When everything has settled down, and we’ve once more managed to stop the world from ending…we’ll go on a proper honeymoon.”

Fitz didn’t say anything at first, clearly unsure whether to make such a promise when he was still convinced that they were stuck in a loop and doomed to fail. Regardless, though, after a beat, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and promised, “As soon as this has all been sorted, I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. I wouldn’t care if you wanted to honeymoon in Antarctica to study the wildlife or something, so long as I was with you.”

Jemma laughed at that, leaning into him to press her lips against his in a grateful kiss. “Truthfully, I was thinking more along the lines of someplace warm and tropical, perhaps isolated and of course, terribly romantic, but your willingness to compromise is noted, and very much appreciated.” Soothed by his promise, no matter how hollow it could possibly be, she grasped his hand in hers and tangled their fingers together, feeling a burst of joy at the cool metal of his ring against her skin. “Alright then, ready to go save the world, husband?”

He chuckled, giving a teasing roll of his eyes even as he lovingly squeezed her fingers between his. “If we must, wife.” And Jemma told herself then that they truly were going to stop the world from ending around them, even if it was simply so that she could see that beautiful smile on Fitz’s face for years and years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	76. 5x13 Post-Ep - Deke's POV of Fitzsimmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for 5x13!!
> 
> Deke tries to, subtly, find out more about his grandparents from the person who seems to know them best.

Deke just can’t quite wrap his mind around it.

Granted, he hasn’t spent all that much time around them, and certainly doesn’t know them very well, but still…he can’t believe that he’s been spending the past week or so with his _grandparents_. Sure, the timing’s right and it makes _sense_ , he supposes, but…

He gives a little shake of his head, dragging a hand through his hair. His _grandparents_. They’ve been right there, in front of him, this whole time. It’s – it’s crazy, isn’t it?

Well sure, Simmons _had_ always somewhat reminded him of his mother; the warmth, the kindness and generosity, the brilliance, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled – and the strength hidden _behind_ that smile. But, to realize that that’s because Simmons is his mother’s _mother_ is just something else.

Of course, then there’s Fitz, who’s brilliant in his own right, but is sure as hell pretty cranky. Deke can definitely buy _him_ as a grandfather, that’s for sure. On the surface, it seems like his mother took after Simmons more, but…then again, Deke didn’t really know either of them, did he?

There’s an easy way to fix that, _obviously_ ; he could just walk right up to them and _tell_ them who he is, then getting to know them better would probably just naturally follow. But, he isn’t quite sure that he’s ready for that, at least not yet. It’s too huge of a revelation, and he’s still struggling to adjust to it – he isn’t sure he’d be up to discussing it with anyone just yet, especially Fitz and Simmons themselves.

So, Deke does the only thing that he can think to do instead.

He finds Fitz and Simmons in the control room, bantering back and forth about something, as they usually are. Much to his relief, Daisy is there as well, hanging back and watching her friends with a little smile tugging at her lips.

Deke steps up beside her, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks. Daisy shoots him a short look, but doesn’t say anything, so after a moment he clears his throat and asks without preamble, “So, what’s with them?”

Well. That hadn’t _quite_ come out like he’d planned it to, but it was a start, at least.

Daisy frowns, turning to him with an arched eyebrow. “What? Fitzsimmons? Oh, that’s just how they are; you’ll get used to it.”

Deke makes a bit of a face in his frustration, the answer not at all what he had been looking for. “No, that’s not what I… I just meant – well, there’s gotta be a reason everyone put everything on hold so two people could get married while the Earth’s clock was ticking, right?”

“ _Ah_.” Fortunately, Daisy seems to understand now, something more like a grin curving her lips. “You better believe there’s a reason.”

He waits, but that’s seems to be all that Daisy is going to say, as though she doesn’t think that he wants to know _what_ the reason behind these two supposedly perfect strangers getting married is. He doesn’t want to appear suspicious in the way that he keeps pressing for more, but he also _has_ to know more, so he simply asks, “So, uh, what _is_ the reason, then?” There, perfectly not suspicious, just a normal conversation, that’s all.

Except, Daisy gives him a bit of a look, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. Deke shifts uncomfortably, planting his hands on his waist and trying to look disinterested, as though this conversation is just a way to bide time until the next disaster makes itself known. “It’s a pretty long story,” she replies slowly, still studying him curiously.

“Ah, well, we’ve uh…we’ve got some time, right? What better way to pass time stuck in a military bunker in the past waiting for the world to end than learning about your fellow prisoners, right?” He even pairs it with a teasing smile, hoping to appear a lot more easygoing about this than he feels.

However, Daisy is a literal _spy_ (he thinks – that’s what SHIELD was, right? Spies? Because they sure don’t seem like it most of the time. Weren’t spies supposed to be _cool_?), and he’s still not sure she’s falling for his act. “We’re not prisoners here,” she reminds him, giving an almost exasperated roll of her eyes. “And besides, if you want to know about Fitzsimmons so bad, why don’t you ask _them_?”

 _Fitzsimmons_. Deke had heard them referred to as this a handful of times now, but this time he really pays attention to it, rolling it around in his mind. People called his grandparents _Fitzsimmons_ , a combination of their last names. But why? It would make sense if that was what they were called _after_ they were married, but he’d heard it mentioned before the wedding.

“Yeah, and make Fitz even more grumpy? I think I’ll skip that, thanks,” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest for effect.

A fond little smirk quirks Daisy’s lips up at the corners and she shrugs. “He’s just like that sometimes; you’ll get used to _that_ too.” She’s quiet for a beat, then simply states, “They’ve been friends for a long time.”

Deke perks up at this bit of information, trying not to seem too excited by it as he turns to face Daisy more fully. “Really? How long?”

Daisy scoffs. “It’s hard to believe they ever _weren’t_ friends, but…I don’t know, I guess it’s been like twelve, thirteen years maybe? Jemma’s mentioned it before, but I can’t remember exactly how long.”

“They’ve been together that long?” Deke asks, bewildered. “Why did they _just_ get married then?”

She laughs fully in response to his words, as though he’s made some kind of joke. “Oh my god, _no_. No. They’ve only been together for a few years now. For like, a decade, those two nerds went around oblivious to the fact that they were in love with each other. That was really something to see, let me tell you. Like, _everyone_ knew it except them.”

Deke blinks in surprise, his gaze automatically shooting over to where Fitz and Simmons are still standing in front of the bank of computers. Simmons is gazing at her husband with a beaming smile, a startling amount of affection written plainly in her eyes. Fitz doesn’t seem to notice at first, but when he glances over and happens to catch her staring, he returns the smile warmly, reaching out to find her hand in his.

No. No, he can’t believe that two people that obviously and sickeningly in love could go for _ten years_ without realizing it. Daisy has to be kidding, right?

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that,” he insists, shaking his head. “I mean, look at them.” With that, he gestures toward the two, and Daisy obligingly glances over, another smile appearing on her face as she watches her friends.

“You don’t have to believe me,” she says simply, shrugging his disbelief off easily. “But, it’s the truth.” Her expression darkens then, her smile fading as she explains almost absently, “It took them going through hell to actually realize it. They’ve…they’ve been through enough. They deserve this.” Shaking away her distraction, she turns to face Deke and tells him firmly, “That’s why we put everything on hold, just for a little bit, so they could get married. They deserved it, okay?”

Deke wants to press further, to find out what Fitz and Simmons had been through, what this ‘hell’ Daisy had mentioned was. Truthfully, he wants to know everything that he possibly can about his grandparents, about the people who raised his mother, someone who had been such an incredible person herself.

But, instinctively, he knows not to push his luck any further; this is all that Daisy will give up. Whatever it is that happened to Fitz and Simmons in the past, she’s not going to talk about it with someone she doesn’t really know; if he wants to find out more about them, he’s going to have to ask them himself.

Briefly, he considers his options, turning to watch them once more. Fitz’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he gazes up at the computer in front of him, no doubt trying to figure out something else that might help them save the future. Simmons is still at his side, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully, also caught up in puzzling whatever it is out. However, despite their distraction, their hands are still entwined between them, and Deke can just barely see Fitz’s thumb caressing the back of his wife’s hand.

No, he decides, he won’t bother them with this quite yet; they already have enough on their plates as it is. Though time is slipping away and they might only have a precious bit left until the clock runs out and the world ends, Deke figures that there’s just enough left that he can spare the newlyweds a little more to enjoy their new status before he piles something else on them. After all, they deserve it, don’t they?

(Perhaps, someday soon, he’ll know _why_ – but, even now, not knowing the full story, somehow, Deke can fully believe that it’s true.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	77. 5x14 Speculation - Fitz vs. the Doctor + Deke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @castielsdwinchester on tumblr: "I have this 5x13 speculation where Fitz is facing his greatest fear with the help of Deke. When Framework!Fitz mention Fitz's incapacity at raising a child, Deke begins to explain how much his mom spoke about her dad, the best and perfect dad ever".

“Have you seen Fitz?”

Deke turned away from the computer monitors in the control room at the sound of Simmons’s now familiar voice, feeling that still new jolt of slightly startled awe at the reminder that the woman standing before him was his _grandmother_. “Uh, no. No. Why, you can’t find him?”

Simmons shook her head, her lips tugging down at the corners. “Not at the moment, no. I’m sure he’ll turn up soon enough – it’s nearly dinner time, after all.”

However, she’d barely finished speaking when an alert began going off on the monitors behind them. Simmons rushed past him, though he wasn’t far behind as she hurriedly began typing something, bringing up security camera footage within the Playground.

“What is it?” Deke asked in concern, stepping up behind her.

“Another manifestation from the rift,” she replied tightly. Her eyes scanned the various screens, before landing on one as her body visibly tensed. She swore under her breath, catching Deke by surprise.

“What?” he repeated, leaning in and narrowing his eyes to get a better look. He felt a lick of surprise when he found what appeared to be _two_ Fitzes across the room from each other, but he didn’t really understand what about that had Simmons so worried.

Before he could _ask_ her, though, she turned on her heel and hurried away, heading out of the control room and no doubt in the direction of Fitz. Deke, naturally, followed her, hastening his pace until he was right beside her.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted, slightly out of breath from their hurried footsteps, “isn’t that just another Fitz? The manifestation of my mom didn’t try to hurt me, and she was just like I remembered her.”

She shook her head, however, answering tensely, “That isn’t Fitz – that’s _the Doctor_.”

Deke paused for the briefest of moments, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of that bit of information. Shaking away his confusion, though, he rushed to catch up once more with Simmons, chuckling as he asked jokingly, “What is that, like some kind of evil alter ego or something?”

Simmons, however, replied seriously, “Something like that.”

-

“You know what it takes to be a _man_ , to be _strong_ , yet you refuse to embrace it.”

Fitz squeezed his eyes closed, giving a jerky shake of his head as he tried unsuccessfully to block out the words that felt as sharp as knives – much like the one the Doctor had managed to knock out of his hand some time ago, his only weapon against the ugliest part of himself come to life. “ _No_ ,” he whispered.

“You are _weak_ ,” the Doctor continued sharply, “and as long as you are weak, you can’t protect your family, you can never be the man and the husband that Jemma needs because you aren’t _enough_.”

Though he tried to keep his voice firm, it trembled slightly as he argued, “You’re wrong, you’re a _monster_ – you don’t…you don’t care about Jemma, you tried – you almost _killed_ her!” He reopened his eyes then, narrowing them around the tears gathering there.

The Doctor had been pacing the room they’d ended up in after Fitz had attempted to flee and was subsequently corned once more by him, but he stopped abruptly, turning harshly to face Fitz as he snapped, “She killed my _father_!” He blew out a harsh breath, then added a bit more calmly, “At least _I_ know how to get done what needs to be done.” For a moment, he eyed Fitz, as though he was studying him, sizing him up. “Father would be so disappointed if he could see you now.”

With that, he gestured to Fitz, standing as far back from the Doctor as he could get, pressed up against a wall, tears now on his cheeks and his hand shaking violently at his side. “ _Shut up_ ,” Fitz told him in a trembling voice.

However, the Doctor ignored him, stalking closer and pointing angrily at him as he pressed on, “You think you can have a happily ever after, that you can have a family, have _children_?” He laughed mockingly, and it sent a shudder up Fitz’s spine. “If you couldn’t even protect the woman you love, how are you supposed to protect your kids? Everything our father did was to guide us, to help us grow and to flourish, to be as strong as we possibly could be – things you could _never_ do for a child. Jemma’s going to realize this soon enough, and she will _leave_ you.”

Fitz was shuddering, his mouth hanging open as he tried and failed several times to speak, to get the words out to argue. But, he just _couldn’t_ , not when everything that the Doctor was saying was what he’d agonized over for some time now, his deepest fears laid bare before him.

However, he didn’t need to argue, as a voice shouted across the room at that very moment, “That’s bullshit!”

Both Fitz and the Doctor turned in surprise, finding _Deke_ of all people striding over, his eyes narrowed in anger on Fitz’s behalf. Fitz hastily shook his head at him, advising him hoarsely, “ _Stop_.”

Deke didn’t listen, though, not stopping until he was right in front of the Doctor, standing eye-to-eye with him. “That’s bullshit,” he repeated, “I _know_ Fitz would be a good father, okay? The best father, even, if what my mom always said was true.”

Fitz was completely shaken by that utterly unexpected bit of information, his eyes growing wide, but Deke didn’t stop there.

“He was a caring, loving, protective dad, who did everything he could to make sure that my mom was safe and happy, even in the midst of the end of the world. My mom always used to tell me stories about her dad, about how he had such a big heart and, well, _I_ haven’t been on the receiving end of it, but I’ve seen it, I believe it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Doctor eyed Deke calculatingly, but simply said, “Can you be sure about that?”

Deke didn’t waver, though, replying easily, “Yes.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed, but a moment later, he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and it was Fitz left standing there across from Deke, the knife he’d dropped earlier in his hand and his eyes wide as he gazed at him.

“Is that…true?”

Deke whirled around at the question, revealing Jemma lingering behind him, her lips parted in obvious shock. He winced, rubbing at the back of his neck and glancing between the two of them as he chuckled uncomfortably. “Uh…yeah. I didn’t really, you know, know how to tell you guys, but…”

Jemma blinked, then asked in a whisper, “So we’re your…”

“Grandparents?” he finished for her, nodding and giving another awkward laugh. “Yeah.” He turned back to Fitz, who was still feeling completely beyond speech at the moment, assuring him quietly, “All that stuff about my mom…that was true too. I don’t want you to think that I made it up or something, because…I didn’t. She loved you, both of you.” At that, he looked back to Jemma.

Fitz released a shuddering breath, taking a couple of steps back and sitting heavily in the chair there. Jemma hurried to his side in an instant, kneeling beside him and taking his bad hand between both of hers, massaging it gently in an attempt to calm the tremors.

Deke was quiet for another beat, then cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, I don’t really know what that was all about, or why… _you_ were your own fear, but…but those things he said about you…I mean, I don’t know you all that well, and you are kind of grouchy, but…you’re not a bad guy. In fact, you’re a really…great guy – the best, according to Mom.”

Fitz sighed shakily, closing his eyes and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, taking a couple of deep breaths to try and steady himself.

“He just needs a moment,” Jemma told Deke softly.

However, it was only a beat later that Fitz managed to finally find his words, asking roughly, “I was a good dad?”

“Oh yeah!” Deke rushed to assure him. “Definitely! It got kind of annoying after awhile, Mom always talking about how _amazing_ her parents were – I mean, I didn’t even _know_ these people, after all – but she had nothing but good stuff to say about you. And I…I can see why, now. I get it.”

Fitz felt Jemma rubbing a soothing hand over his arm, and he leaned back, lifting his head and blowing out a quiet breath. He sagged a bit, feeling some of the tension leave his body at the confirmation, and he glanced down at Jemma’s teary smile before turning back to Deke. With a slight, but grateful smile of his own, he murmured, “Thanks.”

Deke chuckled, then asked teasingly, “You okay then, Gramps?”

It was quiet for a moment, then Fitz and Jemma both let out startled laughter, sharing a disbelieving look. _Gramps_. He could hardly believe it, believe that his _grandson_ was standing right there before him – and that _he_ was the annoying tag-along from their trip to the future that had been getting on his nerves for days now. “I’ll be better when you promise to _never_ call me that again,” he shot back, his voice still a bit shaky even as a little grin quirked his lips up at the corners.

Another round of laughter followed his reply, and Deke returned the grin as he shook his head. “No promises.”

Though the Doctor’s harsh words and taunts were still filling his head, pounding against his skull, Fitz felt them growing quieter and quieter as Deke’s revelations about the future sunk in. He and Jemma were going to have a daughter, they were going to be a _family_ , and despite everything, she would grow up happy, and safe, and loved, and that was all that Fitz could ask for. In fact, Deke was living proof that the love that he and Jemma shared was enough to survive the end of the world as they knew it, that it would go on for far longer than they would. Their love was strong enough to carry on, possibly even forever – perhaps, like energy, it couldn’t be destroyed, only reformed into something new, living on through their children, their grandchildren, and so on.

And, though he was still afraid that they were stuck in a loop and that nothing they did would change the terrible future that they’d witnessed, Fitz could feel the barest bit of content in knowing that despite everything, there was a bright spot in all that darkness – their _family_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	78. Post 3x22 - First 'I Love You'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "could you write FS + First 'I love you' (canon)?"

Even though it had been a handful of weeks now, Fitz still couldn’t quite believe that he and Jemma were _together_ , that after everything they’d been through in the past couple of years and all of the pain and misunderstandings, they were _here_.

In fact, Fitz had even had himself convinced for quite some time that this would never happen, that they simply weren’t meant to be, and had even managed come to terms with it.

And yet, in that moment, they were lying side-by-side on the bed in her bunk, light from a single lamp on the bedside table spilling over the skin of her legs, bared as they were by the dark blue shirt of his that she’d stolen. There was a brilliant grin on her face, her eyes absolutely shining with the laughter coming from her lips, and he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t the lamp that was lighting the room, not really.

In all his life, Fitz had never been happier to be wrong.

Lifting a hand, he reached out to trail his fingertips along her thigh, and he was pretty sure that no matter the amount of time that passed, he’d always be knocked breathless by having the privilege to touch her, to hold her, to love her.

Jemma shuddered delicately at his touch, shifting even closer to him across the mattress. One of her own hands came up to press tenderly against his cheek, and with a smile still curving her lips, she whispered, “Oh _Fitz_ , why haven’t we been doing this for ten years? We’d have been so _happy_.”

For a moment, he imagined it, imagined a life where he and Jemma had realized their connection for what it was back when they’d first met. He pictured the awkward first date they would’ve had at that café just off the Academy campus, smiling uncomfortably at each other across from Styrofoam cups of steaming tea, cheeks stained red with blushes. He thought about how their first kiss might’ve happened, perhaps during a late night study session in one of their rooms – he’d have spent the whole time working up the courage, barely able to focus on his homework until finally he’d just have turned to her and kissed her, just to get it over with before he lost his mind. Jemma would’ve been shocked, no doubt, and he’d have been incredibly embarrassed, but knowing her, it’d only have taken her a minute to regain her bearings before _she_ kissed _him_.

She was right, of course (when wasn’t she?); they would’ve been undeniably happy, and it would’ve saved them a lot of pain and tears over the years. But, if there was one thing that Fitz had learned recently, it was that it did them no good to dwell on the past, not when they were together and happy and more importantly, _alive_ , in the present.

So, he simply replied with a teasing smile, “Ah, well I suppose we’ll just have to fit a decade’s worth of kissing in now. I mean, it’s really the only solution.” It garnered another carefree laugh from her, and Fitz’s own smile grew in response to the sound that he’d never grow tired of hearing.

Her laughter was still lingering when a contemplative look suddenly filled her eyes. However, before he could question her about it, she traced her thumb lovingly along his bottom lip and murmured, “I love you, Fitz.”

His heart skipped several beats in his chest, his breath catching almost painfully in his throat. Somehow, he hadn’t been expecting it, even though she’d made it more than obvious that she felt as such for some time now. But, it was one thing to suspect, to be _almost_ positive, and it was another thing entirely to actually hear the words coming from her lips, spoken in her voice and infused with adoration and affection.

It took him a handful of moments to recover from the shock, to find the words to finally stutter out, “I – I wasn’t… You don’t have to… I… God Jemma, I love you too. Of _course_ I love you.” She smiled hugely as he returned the sentiment, though he thought to himself that there was no way that she could be surprised – in much the same way that she had, he’d only made it clear that he loved her in about every way but saying it point-blank. “But why…why now?” he couldn’t help but ask. “What about now is different from…from Bucharest or when we talked about space or –”

“I wanted to say it when all we felt was happy,” Jemma cut in to explain. “So many of the memories that we have of the firsts in our relationship are laden down with hurt and sadness and fear, and I just…I wanted to look back on this one and only remember the feeling of love and happiness. I wanted to remember laughing with you and never being more in love. I wanted it to belong to just _us_.”

Fitz sucked in a sharp breath, somehow finding himself with even more love for her pouring from his heart and into his chest, though it hardly seemed possible. All he could manage to say in response was, “I love you,” the words coming out rough with emotion.

Jemma’s eyes lit up, and she let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Wow,” she whispered, awe clear in her voice, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that.” Closing the space between them, she found his lips with hers, carding her fingers through his hair until her hand was cupping the back of his head. Against his lips, she added, “And I love you too.”

Even though he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of guilt about it, thinking of Daisy and how broken and empty she’d been in the weeks since Lincoln’s death, spending her days locked up in her bunk and refusing to see or speak to any of them, thinking of the way that SHIELD had been in upheaval since the Hive crisis and the constant overhanging threat in the air around them that things were bound to change with the government now involved… Despite all of that, Fitz knew without a doubt that he truly had never been happier in his life than he was now.

Yes, his time at the Academy with Jemma, finally having someone to talk to that understood him on a level that no one else ever had before, sharing science and combining their genius to make groundbreaking tech for SHIELD had been some of the greatest years of his life. He wouldn’t change those days for anything, nor their time at Sci-Ops, living together in a tiny little flat near the facility, having Saturday night movie marathons and giving life to some of their greatest inventions ever.

However, though it took him years to fully notice it, something had always been _missing_ , the final part of their relationship to make it complete at last. Now, they had _found_ that missing piece, and with it came a feeling of complete and utter _rightness_.

What Jemma had said was absolutely true – this moment was just for _them_. All they’d been feeling lately was grief and guilt and sorrow, and even if it was just for a little bit, they deserved time to simply revel in being in love.

So, Fitz slid his hand up the length of Jemma’s thigh, pressing his palm to the small of her back and tugging her across the scant space between them, rolling them until he was above her. Breaking their kiss and resting his weight on his free arm, he simply gazed down at her for a moment, struggling to breathe for a moment because she was so _gorgeous_ and he loved her so _much_.

Jemma cupped his cheeks in her hands, smiling so widely that her nose crinkled with it, her eyes alight with absolute joy, and it brought an answering grin to Fitz’s lips. Though they’d never needed words to tell each other how important they were to them, he said once more, breathlessly, “I love you,” because he could, because he did, and because he would never tire of the words either. “I love you, Jemma. _I love you_.”

Somehow, her smile grew even more, until it looked as though her cheeks had to be aching from it. She used her grip on his face to tug him down to her, causing him to lose his balance and collapse right on top of her. A peal of delighted laughter filled the tiny room, muffled only when she slotted her lips against his, rolling them over until she was the one above him, all the while mumbling against his lips, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

This moment was _perfect_ in every way, and just like Jemma had wanted, that was exactly what they both would remember when they looked back on it in the years to come. No matter what happened from then on, _nothing_ could steal this moment from them.

_Take that, cosmos._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	79. 5x14 Post-Ep - Jemma and Deke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Spoilers for 5x14!!

“Are you…are you okay?” Deke asked, somewhere between concerned and wary. It wasn’t exactly a _great_ indication when someone threw up after they were told something as monumental as “hey, I’m your grandson from the future”, after all.

Jemma released a shuddering breath, taking another moment before she leaned back, wiping the back of her shaking hand across her mouth. “I’m…” She trailed off there, sucking in a deep breath. After another moment, she turned her head slightly to meet his eyes.

Deke shifted uncomfortably as she very clearly and very silently studied him, her eyes rounded with some unnamed emotion. “What?” he questioned a bit self-consciously. Even though he knew that she’d been through the emotional wringer that day and likely had more than a little on her mind, he couldn’t help but think wildly that she was…disappointed by the fact that _he_ was their grandson, that he wasn’t more impressive, or…or something.

“You’re a bit like him, aren’t you?” she murmured suddenly, her brow furrowing as her eyes darted back and forth, as though she was trying to take all of him in, as though she was afraid that he was going to disappear before she could. “I’d noticed the similarities, but…”

“I – I guess,” he replied, not at all sure what was the _right_ response to that. Truthfully, _he_ was still adjusting to the idea that Fitz and Jemma were his grandparents – he hadn’t gotten far enough to actually envision how a conversation like this with them would go.

Abruptly, Jemma’s eyes grew wider and she sat up straighter, looking desperate all of a sudden. “Don’t…don’t think – this isn’t – he’s a good man, Deke, truly, and –”

“I don’t,” Deke assured her hastily, hesitating for a brief moment before reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I mean, I don’t know what’s going on, but…but it’s like I said – the man that my mom always described as her father, he was…he was pretty incredible. That’s what I believe, okay?”

Jemma inhaled sharply, reaching up to swipe at the tears rolling down her cheeks once more. “It’s…it’s an injury, he…” She seemed to take a moment to gather herself, briefly closing her eyes before she went on, her voice so low that Deke had to strain to hear it, “You asked us about the ocean, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he answered, slightly bewildered. What did _that_ have to do with anything?

“Well…it was…god, four years ago now. Fitz and I…someone we trusted had – well, that’s not important, but, we were trapped at the bottom of the ocean. In order to save me, to make sure that we didn’t both die, Fitz – he gave me the last breath of oxygen and…and…” Her eyes slipped closed once more, and she let out another shuddering breath. “His brain went without oxygen long enough to cause significant damage. Seeing hallucinations, that’s a…it stems from the injury.”

Deke let out a long, slow breath of his own, leaning back against the wall as he struggled to absorb the information. “Whoa.” Dragging a hand through his hair, he gave an absent little shake of his head. “So this…it’s happened before? He’s gonna be okay then?”

Jemma let out a watery, worryingly unhinged little laugh, giving a wide shrug of her shoulders. “It’s never been like this before. He’s struggled, he’s had outbursts, and he’s gotten low, but…but it’s never been…” At the sound of her quiet sob, Deke hastily sat forward once more, reaching out to find her hand with his, not even hesitating this time.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he promised, giving her hand a little squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be okay. And I _know_ that, because I’m from the future.”

She laughed again, softly but more genuinely, turning her head to roll her eyes at him. “Ah yes, you do have the inside information, don’t you?” Her brief flicker of mirth faded, and she studied him once again, though this time it seemed to be with something almost like… _awe_ written in her expression. “I…I’ve imagined before, a future with…what our future would be like, our…our children,” her voice nearly broke on the word, but she continued regardless, “but I never thought much…further than that.”

“That’s okay,” Deke replied, trying to infuse as much humor into his tone as he could, “most newlyweds probably don’t spend their time thinking what their grandkids are gonna be like anyway.”

Jemma gripped his hand more tightly, waiting until he’d glanced up to meet her eyes before she told him firmly, sincerely, “Deke, I’m still…processing, and I’m not sure…what to think, to be honest. But, despite all of that…we’re family. You’re our _family_ , and…and we couldn’t be prouder.”

The words hit Deke straight in the chest, and for a moment he struggled to breathe, quickly dropping his eyes so that she wouldn’t see the emotion in them. _God_ , when was the last time someone had told him they were proud of him? He’d forgotten what it felt like.

But, more than that, he’d forgotten how it felt to have a family, to _be_ with family.

Sniffing back the brief and unexpected burst of emotion, Deke raised his head and quirked his lips in a half-smile as he teased, “Well, you can’t really say that, can you? I mean, Fitz hasn’t seemed to be filled with an overwhelming amount of pride lately.”

“Nonsense,” Jemma insisted instantly, smiling softly through her continued tears, “he may not show it, but he was very impressed with you, with your knowledge on the gravitonium. And once he knows, he’ll…” She seemed to lose her train of thought there, blowing out a quiet breath and dropping her gaze to her lap. A sad, half-smile curved her lips, and she finished lowly, “He’ll be more open, he’ll show it. You’ll see.”

“You aren’t going to tell him, are you?” Deke questioned, even though he had the feeling that he already knew the answer. “Until after he’s…he’s better?”

He heard her take a deep, steadying breath. “No,” she agreed softly. “I’m afraid that…that learning something like this would be…damaging. And I don’t want to…” She swallowed audibly, though it was quickly followed by another aborted sob, her attempt to keep the tears at bay failing. “I’m sorry,” she apologized tearfully, lifting her free hand to cover her face.

Deke wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to apologize, he wanted to say _something_ to comfort her, but in that moment, he remembered something else his mother always used to say: _there’s nothing more comforting than a hug_. So, without a word, he dropped Jemma’s hand in favor of scooting closer, hesitating for just a second before he (admittedly, a tad awkwardly) wrapped his arms around his grandmother for the very first time.

Jemma tensed slightly, likely in surprise at the gesture, but just as he was considering pulling back and apologizing, she relaxed into it. Her arms came up to hold him in return, and he could feel her hands trembling against his back as they came to rest there. She gave another, muffled sob as she buried her face in his shoulder, and Deke did the only thing that he could think to do to help – he simply held her tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	80. Jemma in Labor During a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written roughly two years ago, around the end of Season Three

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“ _Fitz_ ,” Jemma hissed under her breath, sending an apologetic look toward Coulson, who had paused in his briefing to turn toward them with an arched eyebrow.

Fitz shot an incredulous look at her, then glanced back toward Coulson with sharply narrowed eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. “Jemma’s been out of the field for _months_ , sir. You can’t _possibly_ want to send her out now, of all times!” To complete his statement, he gestured harshly toward Jemma’s bulging stomach, just nine days out from her due date now.

“Fitz,” Jemma repeated, though her tone was now soothing as she laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Shh, it’s alright.”

“Simmons will be perfectly safe on the Zephyr,” Coulson reminded him, his voice calm in the face of Fitz’s anger, though his eyebrow was still raised at the outburst. “No harm will come to her, or your daughter, I promise. But, we need Simmons out in the field; I’m afraid that it’s necessary at this time.”

Fitz opened his mouth, seemingly about to argue their orders yet again, but then May stepped forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t let her out of my sight,” she promised him solemnly.

Frowning, Fitz glanced between May’s unwavering expression and Jemma’s comforting smile. After a moment, he let out a long sigh and gave a sharp nod. “Alright. Alright, fine. But you will stay _on_ the Zephyr, Jem, okay?”

Jemma rolled her eyes at that, heaving a sigh at her husband’s chronic over-protectiveness. “Yes, alright.” With that settled, she turned back to Coulson, who looked vaguely amused but was clearly more than ready to finish the briefing. “Sorry sir, continue.”

“Thank you.” Coulson cleared his throat, then turned back to the large screen in his office, on which there was an infrared map of the warehouse suspected to contain the tech and weapons of all kinds that had been stolen from various labs and agencies around the globe and then stashed by AIM. There wasn’t much they could tell by the map, other than that there was something inside it giving off a _lot_ of heat. “We’re unclear as to the security surrounding the warehouse and what to expect once we’re inside. That’s what we need Fitz for, taking point with Daisy on the entry, leading the rest of the team inside, while Simmons runs back-end from the Zephyr.” He paused then, glancing around at the gathered team soberly. “This is our chance to deal a crushing blow to AIM, so let’s not waste it.”

After the briefing finished, it was little time before they were on the Zephyr and departing for the site of the warehouse. Fitz was quiet for most of the trip, obviously brooding, and it was a few minutes before touchdown that Jemma finally pulled him aside, lowering her voice to assure him, “I’ll be fine, Fitz. I’m quite capable of protecting myself, _and_ I’ll have May with me. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Fitz still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either, and Jemma accepted that as the closest thing she’d get to an agreement. “Just…be careful, okay?”

“I could say the same thing,” Jemma shot back, finding both of his hands with hers and linking their fingers together. “You will be careful, won’t you? I’d hate to have to defy science and find a way to resurrect you only to kill you _myself_ for leaving me to raise your grumpy Scottish spawn alone.”

“Ah, quite a bother that would be, hmm?” Fitz gave a low chuckle, leaning in to press a loving kiss to her forehead. “I wouldn’t dream of causing you such an inconvenience.”

“Good.” Jemma tilted her chin up to catch his lips with her own, murmuring into their kiss, “I love you.”

Fitz gave her hands a squeeze, dropping a few more pecks on her lips before he replied, “I love you, Jemma.” Gently releasing her hands, he then placed his own on her stomach, dropping to his knees before her so that he could plant an affectionate kiss to where she housed their daughter. “And I love you, sweetheart.”

“ _Awww_.”

They both glanced up at Daisy’s coo, finding her standing nearby with her hands clasped beneath her chin.

“You guys are too adorable for words,” she added with a beaming grin. She reached out, grasping Fitz’s arm and tugging him up to his feet. “Come on _Daddy_ , we’ve got to get going.”

“Don’t _ever_ call me that,” Fitz replied with a grimace, shaking off Daisy’s grip on his arm. He turned back to Jemma, giving her a warm smile as he told her, “I’ll see you soon, Jem.” And with that, he, Daisy, and Mack headed off of the cloaked Zephyr and to the nearby warehouse.

As Jemma watched him leave, she felt her stomach seem to twist itself up in knots, and she fought down the sudden and desperate desire to get him to stay. She shook it off, trying to get her heart rate back to a normal rhythm as she took her seat at the center console, running a cursory glance over it to make sure everything was turned on and working. She felt a presence behind her, just over her shoulder, and glanced back to find May standing behind her with her arms crossed, her gaze trained on the screen. Flicking on the comms, Jemma asked the team, “Can you hear me?”

“ _Loud and clear, Simmons!_ ” Daisy chirped in confirmation.

“ _We can hear you, Jemma_ ,” Fitz added, and even though it had been mere moments since they’d parted, the sound of his voice sent a wash of calm over her.

“ _So_ ,” Daisy started, her tone entirely too casual, “ _Have you decided to name your daughter after me yet? Because I mean it’s a pretty obvious choice, if you ask me_.”

“ _We’re not naming her after you,_ ” Fitz replied in exasperation, “ _You’re already her godmother, Daisy._ ”

“We’re going to name her after Fitz’s grandmother,” Jemma put in helpfully as she kept an eye on their heat signatures, getting closer and closer to the warehouse. They’d only come to the decision recently, but it had made the most sense; other than his mum, Fitz’s beloved grandmother had been his only family, and they’d always been quite close. Unfortunately, she’d died not long before Fitz had left for the Academy, so Jemma had never gotten the chance to meet her, but every time he told a story about her, it was easy to see how dearly he’d loved her.

“ _What’s_ –” Daisy started, but was cut off abruptly by May.

“Cut the chatter,” she said sharply, and Jemma winced a bit guiltily, shooting a worried glance over her shoulder, but May wasn’t looking at her. “You’re approaching the target.”

It was quiet for a moment, then Fitz said lowly, “ _We’re going in_ ,” and Jemma’s heart leapt into her throat.

Things were calm and simple at first, with Fitz easily bypassing security, with some help from Daisy, and Mack’s familiar rumble could be heard over the comms, sharing his suspicions about it being “too damn quiet”. The team had just reached the main room of the warehouse when Fitz prompted lowly, “ _Jemma?_ ”

“Yes?” Jemma replied quickly, leaning closer to the screen, as though that would somehow bring them closer.

“ _Are we seeing what I_ think _we’re seeing?_ ” Just then, the feed from Fitz’s phone went live on the screen, and Jemma squinted through the dark to see –

“You need to get out of there,” she said hurriedly, her eyes growing wider the longer she stared in horror at the _very_ dangerous chemical bomb that had gone missing from a research and development lab the previous week – and the blinking light that told her it was armed.

“ _Shit_ ,” Fitz mumbled under his breath. “ _Are they_ tryin’ _to blow this place to kingdom come?_ ”

“ _We have to shut it down!_ ” Daisy hissed into the comm, and in Fitz’s video feed, Jemma could see her getting closer.

“No!” Jemma cried, struggling up out of her seat, but there wasn’t anything she could do from the Zephyr.

“ _It’s still gonna go off, Jemma, and people could get hurt_ ,” Fitz reminded her reasonably, but Jemma didn’t want to be reasonable while her husband was in _very_ real danger. “ _I need your help to talk me through shutting it down_.”

“No!” she repeated, shaking her head. She didn’t want him any closer to it; she just wanted him back on the Zephyr and in her arms, where she knew that he was safe and whole and not in any danger of getting blown to pieces.

“Simmons,” May murmured from behind her, placing a placating hand on her shoulder. “The sooner Fitz shuts it down, the sooner they can get the hell out.”

Jemma darted a desperate glance at May, but her expression was firm and unwavering, and it helped to soothe Jemma’s emotions, thrown completely out-of-whack by her pregnancy hormones. “Right. Right.” Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the image of the bomb on the screen. “Okay Fitz, here’s what you do first.”

She was nearly finished helping him to disarm it when Mack could be heard shouting, “ _Take cover!_ ” followed by the sound of guns going off and bullets _pinging_ off of metal.

Much to her disconcertion, Fitz _didn’t listen_ , and continued to work on the bomb, although his hands did begin to move more quickly. “ _Fitz!_ ” Daisy cried at him, “ _Get the hell down!_ ”

“ _Almost done_ ,” Fitz mumbled, and had Jemma been able to find her breath, let alone her _voice_ , in that moment, she’d have shouted at her incredibly _foolish_ husband herself. When the armed light went off, they both breathed simultaneous sighs of relief, and Jemma calmed down a bit.

Then, it all went to hell.

Fitz could be heard crying out in pain over the comms, just before they cut out at the same moment that his video feed did, and they were blind.

Frantically, Jemma tapped at the controls, desperately trying to get it back up and working. “Fitz? Fitz?!” But, there was nothing except static, and it was getting hard to breathe. They’d walked right into a trap. They’d walked right into a trap, and Fitz was hurt god knew _how_ badly, and she had no _clue_ what was going on or how to help. Unless…

Quickly, she whirled to face May, who was gazing at the blank screen in an expression that was as close to fear as she got, though her brows were lowered in fierce anger.

“May,” she begged, grasping the older woman’s arm and bringing her eyes to her pleading face, “Please, you need to go help them, you need to help him.”

For a moment, May looked tempted, glancing toward the exit of the Zephyr, but then she shook her head. “No. No, I’m not leaving you unprotected, Simmons.”

“ _They’re_ the ones that need protection!” Jemma reminded her, and at any other time she would’ve winced at how shrill her voice came out, but it was the least of her worries at the moment.

“ _No_ ,” May repeated, her tone final and quite terrifying. “Simmons –”

She was cut off by the _crack_ of gun being fired, and Jemma gasped when the screen behind her shattered. She whipped around to find a few AIM agents that must’ve snuck onto the Zephyr firing at them from around the corner, and she quickly raised her arms to wrap around her stomach, a meager attempt to protect her baby.

May pulled a gun from the back of her waistband, and despite the situation, Jemma felt a flash of surprise to find that she was already carrying a gun, given her constant mantra of, “if I need a gun, I’ll take one”. “Get _down_ , Simmons!” she snapped, raising the gun with one hand and shoving Jemma down and behind her with the other. She returned the gunfire, and Jemma heard a shout of pain or two from the men before she was being yanked back to her feet and led by May further into the Zephyr, where they’d have more cover.

They ended up in the medical supply room, where May (quite politely, all things considered) shoved Jemma behind a desk and following behind to give herself cover. Jemma curled up around her stomach, wincing at the tumultuous feeling in it making her quite nauseated. “It’s alright, love,” she whispered to her baby, rubbing a hand over her rounded belly soothingly. “Calm down, it’s alright.”

May shot her a concerned look, and seemed about to ask something, but then a glass container on the counter in front of them shattered, and she forgot all about it, leaning around the desk to return the fire. Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through the pain now flaring out from her stomach to her back, as she listened to the battle raging around her.

Some indefinable amount of time later, May rose from her spot beside her, and Jemma’s eyes sprung open. She watched as May carefully scanned the room, peering out into the hall before stepping out of the room. A moment later, she returned, tucking her gun back into her waistband. “All clear,” she declared as she squatted back down beside Jemma. “Are you alright, Simmons?”

The pain had receded from her lower body, only to return a few moments later, and Jemma could feel sweat breaking along her hairline as she leaned back heavily against the desk. “ _No_ ,” she moaned, cupping her stomach and shaking her head. “Fitz is… I need Fitz. I need my husband.”

“Jemma, come on, stay with me,” May commanded, gripping Jemma’s shoulder tightly enough to force her gaze back to her. “Are you in labor?”

A sob built in her throat, and Jemma pressed her lips tight together as she nodded her head rapidly. When the contraction she’d been experiencing ended, she let out a gust of air, sagging a bit in relief. But, it was short-lived, as a moment later she told May, verging on hyperventilating, “I need Fitz, I can’t…I won’t do this without him and he…he could be _hurt_ or…or _worse_ and I…I _can’t_ , May, I can’t –”

“ _Shhh_ ,” May interrupted, lifting her hand from Jemma’s shoulder to brush her hair back from her sweaty forehead. “Fitz is fine, Jemma. He’ll be here. You’ve got time.” With a frown, she lifted her head, glancing around, then reached down to help Jemma up. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

With May’s support, Jemma made it to the containment pod, which held the only vaguely comfortable bed on the plane. Even as she talked Jemma through the ( _thank god_ , still quite far apart) contractions slowly increasing in pain, she kept an eye through the window of the pod, ever vigilant for anyone else intending to kill them.

It’d been roughly an hour, just as Jemma was descending into an all-out panic, when May stiffened and hurried out of the pod, calling out over her shoulder for Jemma to, “Stay calm, Simmons”, which did anything but make her feel calm.

If she hadn’t currently been feeling as though her entire lower body was being torn in half, Jemma would’ve sat up to glance through the window to find whatever it was that had May on alert. As it was, though, all she could do was grip the mattress and clench her teeth tight together as she breathed through the pain.

Mid-contraction, she heard footsteps moving toward the open door of the pod, and she forced her eyes open to make sure that it was May and not another armed AIM agent – not that she could do much to protect herself at the moment.

However, it was neither.

Jemma sucked in a surprised breath when she saw Fitz, being half-carried by Mack, who gestured to her and said pointedly, “See Fitz, she’s alright.”

“ _Jemma_ ,” Fitz sighed in relief, looking more than a little exhausted as he leaned heavily on Mack. His face was dirt-streaked and covered in blood and sweat, and he was pressing his free hand to a spot low on his abdomen that seemed to be leaking blood out through his fingers.

“What –” Jemma’s demand to know what the hell had happened was cut off by an intense flare of pain in her back, and she let out a pained moan as she curled in on herself in a vain attempt to protect herself from the sharp ache in her womb.

“Whoa Turbo –” As Mack’s surprised exclamation was reaching her ears, she felt someone sit down heavily beside her on the bed, followed by clumsy fingers brushing back the strands of hair sticking to her sweaty cheeks.

Cracking open her eyes, she found Fitz gazing down at her in worry through his own pain bowing his mouth. “ _Fitz_ ,” she groaned, trying for a fierce glare, but it never quite finished forming. At least, it didn’t until the contraction had finally ended and she could focus her full attention on it. “You absolute, self-sacrificing _fool_ , you need medical!”

“No, I need to be with you,” Fitz argued, shaking his head fiercely, though he grimaced and pressed his hand a bit tighter to his wound. “You need me –”

“What I need is for you to not be bleeding out when I give birth to our daughter, Fitz,” Jemma shot back, though she softened it by reaching up to caress his cheek. “The sooner you get yourself fixed up, the sooner you can glue yourself to my side, alright?” When Fitz grudgingly nodded in response, she went on, “Was it a graze, a clean in and out, or is it still inside you?”

Fitz made a face, glaring down at his side, but it was Mack that spoke up from the doorway, “No exit wound, and the angle was off for a graze.”

Jemma’s brow furrowed in worry, and she mentally ran over their options before nodding sharply. “Alright, we’re going to need a med-kit, some towels, and a bowl of clean water.” Turning to Mack, who had been about to dart off to retrieve said items, she asked, “Mack, how squeamish are you?”

He paused, half-turning back to glance at Jemma in confusion. But, when he seemed to understand, he groaned, “Oh _hell_ no.”

“Sorry,” she replied, though her tone was a bit sharper than she’d been intending as she shifted to try and sit up, only to cause a brief but sharp ache in her lower body. Through the pain and swatting away Fitz’s attempts to aid her, she hissed out, “I’d do it myself if my body wasn’t preparing to eject a small _human being_ from it.”

Mack grimaced at her description, but nodded in acknowledgement, then rushed off to get the requested supplies. He’d been gone only a moment when May returned, looking quite unhappy. “Where’s Mack? They did something to cut the power in the Zephyr, and I can’t get flight systems online.”

Fitz almost seemed to make a move to stand, but Jemma reached out and clasped the front of his shirt, yanking him back down. He looked upset, but seemed to recognize that he was no help in his current condition, and explained to May a bit guiltily, “Jemma’s enlisted him to help stitch me up.”

May’s sharp eyes darted down to his wound, covered by his hand, now dripping blood onto the once sterling white sheets of the bed. Concern flickered in her eyes for a moment, then she was bringing her gaze back up to meet Fitz’s as she replied, “I’ll send Daisy – I need Mack to get this plane in the air.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared.

A few minutes later, not long after Jemma’s most recent contraction had ended, Daisy arrived, carrying the items Jemma had asked of Mack. “May said I’m playing doctor’s assistant,” she explained, setting the armload down on the ground by the bed. Making a face, she asked hesitantly, “I’m not…delivering your baby, right?”

“We’ve got at least a few more hours before we have to worry about that,” Jemma assured her. “For now, you’re going to remove the bullet in Fitz’s abdomen and stitch him up.”

“I’m… _what_?” Daisy gaped up at them in disbelief, her wide eyes shooting from Fitz’s bloody wound to the med-kit beside her. “Jemma, you’re joking, right?”

“I can hardly do it myself, Daisy!” Jemma reminded her a bit impatiently. “I’m going to talk you through it, but we need to work fast.”

Daisy still looked terrified and unsure, but she quickly nodded, spreading out a few towels and helping Fitz down onto them, then Jemma down to kneel beside them. She looked near tears as she pulled off his jacket and shirt and he groaned and writhed with pain, constant apologies flying from her lips. Clearly trying to make light of the situation, even as she sniffled, she teased, “No wonder you got pregnant, Jem.”

“I’m bloody _bleeding to death_ , and you’re sexually harassing me?” Fitz groused, but the heat behind his words was lost to the pain seizing his voice.

Jemma offered Daisy a small, encouraging smile and she reached out to clasp Fitz’s hand supportively, then she took a deep breath and began instructing her. Throughout the next half hour, Jemma became likely one of the only women – if not the only woman – ever to aid in performing a surgery while experiencing contractions, and she knew that once this was all over, she’d be quite proud of herself. It was certainly one for the history books, and was sure to be quite entertaining to their daughter someday – when she was old enough to hear such a story.

Once Fitz was all stitched up and mostly cleaned of the blood, covered by a fresh shirt, Daisy helped him into a chair beside Jemma’s bed, but Jemma had refused to return to bed just yet, wanting to stretch her legs a bit. She had tried to insist that he take pain medication, but he’d resisted, firmly stating that he wanted to be clear-headed and one-hundred percent present when she delivered their baby girl.

Time simultaneously seemed to speed by and slow to crawl after that, as Daisy was called to help Mack in his efforts to fix the Zephyr’s flight systems, and Jemma’s contractions drew steadily closer and closer. By her estimation, she had to be at least five to six centimeters dilated by now – it was all happening much quicker than she’d planned for in the months leading up to her due date. However, in all her planning, she hadn’t accounted for the stress of the mission and being _shot at_.

Luckily, she managed a bit of sleep between contractions, and felt just a bit more rested and relaxed when she woke up. However, then May was arriving at the door to the pod, her expression grim. “We’re grounded for right now, Simmons. Whatever they did, it was thorough. Coulson’s sending an extraction team, but –”

“It’ll be sometime before they arrive,” Jemma surmised with a sigh, even as she nodded in understanding. “So this is happening here.”

“I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” May promised, stepping further into the room to stand beside the bed next to Fitz’s chair. “Everything’s going to be alright, Jemma.”

Even though Jemma was quite sure that May had never delivered a baby before, she believed her, nodding gratefully and giving her a warm smile in response. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” May insisted, shaking her head, and before Jemma could correct her, she’d disappeared once more.

Sometime later, when things were _really_ getting intense in Jemma’s uterus and Fitz had probably lost all feeling in his right hand (though she couldn’t quite tell, given that his encouraging words hadn’t ceased in the slightest), May reappeared in the pod, arms laden with gloves, scissors, and fresh towels. The clothing covering her bottom half had long since been removed, and without hesitation, May moved the blanket lying over Jemma’s legs to check her progress. “Looks as though we’re about ready,” she informed Jemma, even though she’d already guessed that she was almost there.

“Okay,” Jemma breathed, closing her eyes and dropping her head back against the pillow.

Fitz leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead, murmuring against her skin, “You’re doing fantastic, Jemma. You’ve got nothing to worry about; you’re going to excel at this like you do everything else. You’re amazing, love.” With a tired smile, Jemma turned her head to nuzzle her nose against his, pressing a grateful kiss to his lips.

Once the pushing began, Jemma lost any and all track of time as her world narrowed down to getting her baby safely out and _pain_. She tried incredibly hard to focus on the former, while Fitz ended up getting the brunt of the latter as she squeezed his hand and crushed his fingers, but he took it all in stride. The next time that Jemma became aware of anything other than _push push push_ , it was due to the sight of their baby, their daughter, for the first time as she entered the world, helped along by May.

Time sped up from there, and before she knew it, Jemma was holding her wailing baby girl to her chest. She was wrapped in a towel and had already had a cursory onceover by May, the umbilical cord having been snipped by a teary-eyed Fitz. With shaking hands, Jemma cradled her daughter closer, ignoring the tears rolling down her cheeks as she cooed, “Oh my darling, oh my precious baby girl, look at you. So _beautiful_. My darling Evelyn.” As soon as the name passed her lips, she knew that they’d chosen correctly – it fit their little girl perfectly.

“God, she’s _perfect_ ,” Fitz whispered, reaching out with a similarly trembling hand to cradle her much tinier one between his fingers. “She’s incredible.” Even though she heard him grunt in pain as he leaned over, he dropped a loving kiss to the top of Evelyn’s head.

She appeared to be calmed, and rather confused as well, by their voices, as her crying had ceased and she wiggled around a bit before blinking open her eyes. They were blue, like all other newborns, but Jemma could tell instantly that hers weren’t going to change. With a watery gasp, she glanced up from Evelyn’s blue eyes into their matching pair in her father’s face. “She has your eyes,” she murmured, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill over onto her cheeks.

“And your everything else,” Fitz pointed out teasingly, though he seemed a bit choked up as well at the sight of their daughter with his eyes. With a grin, he leaned in to meet Jemma’s lips with his, murmuring against them, “I love you, Jemma.”

“I love you,” she replied instantly, pressing another couple of kisses against his lips before pulling back to beam at him.

At some point, May had disappeared, likely to give their little family a bit of time alone together, but Jemma was just about to ask Fitz for her so that she could thank her when she felt Evelyn fussing against her.

Peering down at Evelyn in surprise, Jemma gave a disbelieving laugh at finding that she was already rooting. “Hasn’t even been in the world for a full ten minutes and she’s already hungry; she’s definitely your daughter, Fitz.”

Fitz grinned proudly, puffing out his chest as he replied, “Got all my best qualities, she did. That’s my girl.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at him, though the effect was ruined somewhat by her smile as shrugged out of her shirt and bra with a little help from Fitz. After a couple tries, Evelyn managed to latch on, and Jemma smiled triumphantly. “See, we’ve got this, haven’t we sweetheart?” Absently, she stroked Evelyn’s back as their daughter enthusiastically fed. Suddenly, something occurred to her, and she glanced up at Fitz with wide eyes. “Did someone check the time? Oh, we’ve got to know what to put on the birth certificate, and she’ll no doubt want to know someday and –”

“It was 12:19, Jem,” Fitz hastened to answer her before she could get anymore worked up. “I made sure to check, ‘cause I knew you’d freak out if I didn’t.”

“Well of course I would,” Jemma huffed in response. “It’s _important_.” Given the time they’d left the base, it was obviously just past midnight, rather than noon, which meant that it was the next day, and that meant… “Oh my _god_.” She blinked a couple times as she realized what the date was, and the fact that just yesterday morning, she’d been discussing birthday plans for Fitz for the following day with Daisy, and that could only imply one thing. “That means…”

Fitz chuckled, clearly having already come to the same conclusion. He nodded at Evelyn, still suckling away, and answered the unspoken question. “Yes Jemma, Evie and I share more than an apparent love of your breasts.”

Jemma took another moment to soak in the information, then she smiled softly at him and murmured, “Happy Birthday, Fitz.”

He returned the smile, reaching out to rest a hand over Jemma’s on Evelyn’s back as he replied quietly, “I think it’s my best one yet.”

-

It wasn’t much longer before extraction arrived with the necessary equipment to fix the Zephyr, and much to Fitz’s annoyance, he was drafted to help due to being the one to actually _design_ the plane. During that time, Daisy came to visit Jemma and Evelyn, excited to meet her goddaughter, and she was closely followed by Coulson, who had arrived with the extraction team and tried to hide the way that he got choked up as he held Evelyn for the first time. They both eventually left to give Jemma some time alone with her daughter, though it wasn’t long before May was sticking her head in the door to let her know they’d be taking off soon.

Before May could disappear again, though, Jemma stopped her, calling out, “Wait, May!” She paused, turning back to face Jemma with an arched eyebrow. “I…I wanted to thank you for…well, for protecting us, and of course, for making sure that she arrived safely.”

“It was nothing,” May repeated, brushing off Jemma’s gratitude easily. She seemed about to leave once more, but stayed when Jemma called out to her again.

A bit hesitantly, Jemma offered, “You… Would you like to hold her?” She held the now sleeping Evelyn out slightly toward May, and saw her glance in the direction of the cockpit before she nodded, stepping further into the room and taking the offered bundle.

Effortlessly, her arms settled into the correct position to cradle Evelyn, and she gazed silently down at her for a very long moment. In the quiet, Jemma settled back into the mattress, a wave of exhaustion crashing over her now that she no longer had her newborn to distract her from it. She was about to give in to the temptation to close her aching eyes for a little bit when she heard May admit so lowly that she almost didn’t hear, “She’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a granddaughter.”

Jemma’s eyes flew open in disbelief, and even taken aback as she was by the closed-off May admitting something so personal, she still cried in indignation on May’s behalf, “You’re not _old_ enough to be a grandmother!”

The tiniest of smiles flickered across May’s face, and it appeared to be the only response Jemma was going to receive, as a moment later, she handed Evelyn back to her and left the pod once more without a word.

With a small smile of her own, Jemma informed the oblivious Evelyn, “That’s May, my darling. You’re so very fortunate to know her, because as I’m sure you’ll learn, she’s one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. Plus, I think she has a bit of a soft spot for you, which you’ll also learn is quite rare. But, your daddy and I are lucky as well, because we’ll never have to worry about your safety as long as May’s around to keep you safe. There’s no one we’d trust more.” As an end to her statement, she dropped a little kiss onto Evelyn’s tiny forehead, her warm smile still in place.

And, little did she know, there was a similar smile forming on May’s lips just outside the containment pod as she swiftly wiped away the single tear that had escaped down her cheek. She lingered a moment longer, then allowed her smile to drop into her normal non-expression as she went to check on the progress of the repairs. However, even if no one could tell from the outside, on the inside she was still feeling warm and light and so very fortunate for the family she’d never dared to hope for after Bahrain – but that didn’t matter, because they’d found her anyway, and forced their way right into her heart no matter how high her walls and how much distance she’d tried to put between herself and them.

Now, however, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	81. Fitzsimmons + Deke - Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "I just want a fic about anything that involves Fs and Deke bonding, in a fluffy, fun way."

“ _Huh_.”

Curiously, Jemma glanced up from the book that she’d been leafing through in the common area of the Lighthouse, finding that Deke had just entered as well. However, he’d paused near the doorway, and was now staring somewhat intensely at her.

Pressing her lips together to hide an amused smile, Jemma lowered her book and asked, “Is everything alright, Deke?”

He blinked a couple of times, shaking away his distraction and lifting his eyes to meet hers. “What? Oh, yeah. Yeah! I just…” He frowned, waving a hand slightly in the direction of her midsection.

She dropped her own gaze, a loving smile flitting across her lips as she placed one hand over her stomach. She’d only just begun to really _show_ in the past couple of days, and that morning she’d chosen a blouse with a tighter fit, one that clung more to her pregnant belly and perfectly showcased it. “ _Ah_ , I see. You’ve never seen a pregnant woman before, have you?”

“No,” Deke admitted, shaking his head absently.

“And I’m sure that it’s also a bit strange, given that it’s…well, your mother,” she added, giving her stomach a little pat, where their daughter was currently growing.

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking a couple of tentative steps closer until he said somewhat awkwardly to her stomach, “Uh…hey Mom.”

At the sound of a familiar disbelieving scoff, Jemma’s gaze found her husband, off to the side of the room, where he was fiddling with some new project. She’d attempted to insist that he could go down to the lab and that she’d be fine by herself, but he’d all but become physically attached to her side since they’d found out that she was pregnant and had steadfastly refused.

“You know,” Fitz started, abandoning his project to turn toward them fully, “our lives were never very _normal_ , but this is kind of pushing it, even for us.”

“Nonsense,” she shot back, “normal is just another word for _boring_ – we joined SHIELD for adventure, remember?”

“This was never the kind of adventure I pictured,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest, “and um, also, just for the record – _you_ wanted adventure; I wanted to stay in my nice, safe lab.” Turning to Deke then, he explained, “If I’d had my way, we’d never have gone into the field and almost _died_ every other week. But, it was your bloody grandmother that dragged me into this mess.”

Deke chuckled at that, looking amused as he turned back to Jemma. She, however, scoffed at Fitz’s assertion, reminding him, “I didn’t force you to do anything! You had a _choice_ , didn’t you?” Without giving him a chance to respond, she insisted to Deke, “He had a choice.”

“ _Of course_ I didn’t have a choice – when have I _ever_ been able to say no to you?” Fitz uncrossed his arms, seemingly for the express purpose of planting his hands angrily on his hips.

Jemma smirked a bit smugly at that, giving a little shrug and answering honestly, “Well, never, of course. But, there’s always tomorrow.” Though Fitz attempted to keep up his (entirely fake) irritated expression, a little smile slipped through even as he rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s what I needed those first ten years for: to groom you into the perfect husband,” she teased, adding a moment later, “and, speaking of being the perfect husband…”

“Oh, what do you want _now_?” he asked in mock-exasperation.

With a winning smile, she admitted, “Some of your mum’s cupcakes would be _wonderful_ right about now.”

“Cupcakes?” Deke spoke up to ask in bewilderment. He glanced back and forth between his grandparents, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “Is that some kind of food that you eat out of a cup?” And, as if that wasn’t enough, he mimed what must’ve been what he thought eating “cupcakes” would look like.

“Oh, now you _have_ to make them so Deke can try some,” Jemma told Fitz, her lips curved into a fond smile. She happened to find Deke’s utter joy and clear perplexity when it came to something new in their world absolutely adorable. “You see,” she explained to him, “Fitz’s mum makes the _best_ chocolate cupcakes – Fitz’s are alright, too, of course, but he has nothing on his mother.”

Fitz gave a huff at that, giving her a look for the teasing dig. “Oh yeah, well Jemma can’t bake to save her life. My mum spent an entire summer once trying to teach her how to bake the simplest things – she nearly burned down our kitchen! _Twice_!”

Trying to cover for her lingering embarrassment over that particular incident, even over a decade later, Jemma pointed out, “And yet, your mum still _adores_ me. In fact, she’ll be over the moon to find out that I’m officially her daughter-in-law now.” To Deke, she added, “I’m quite sure that our parents always knew there was something more between us, always giving us these strange, _knowing_ looks. I’m quite sure that they’ll be right smug to know that we’re married now.”

“Honestly,” Deke admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck and letting out a little chuckle, “I didn’t know you guys _before_ , but I can’t really believe that  anyone _wouldn’t_ see it. I mean, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

Jemma couldn’t quite help the way that her cheeks flushed, and she shared an embarrassed look with Fitz. “Ah, well…we’ve never claimed to be geniuses in _every_ area.”

“ _We_?” Fitz muttered disbelievingly under his breath, which Jemma pointedly ignored.

Instead, she said, “Well, where are my cupcakes, then? Your daughter wants them, Fitz.”

“ _Oh_? Are you sure about that? Maybe it’s just that _Jemma_ wants them.”

Without missing a beat, though, Jemma replied, “Fine, your daughter and _your wife_ want them.”

Fitz pursed his lips for a moment, but then he waved a hand at Deke, gesturing for him to join him. “Alright then, Deke, want to find out which grandparent you take after more when it comes to the kitchen?”

Deke looked surprised for a beat, but then he hurried over to where Fitz was now waiting by the door. “Sure,” he agreed, even looking a bit excited by the prospect.

“Well, this I _have_ to see,” Jemma commented, carefully scooting to the edge of the couch that she’d been lounging on and getting to her feet.

“Might as well grab the fire extinguisher then,” Fitz called over his shoulder, throwing her a teasing smirk, “you know, just in case.”

-

Out of the corner of his eye, Fitz noticed Deke watching with wide, curious eyes as he laid out the proper ingredients and tools for baking. Picking up the measuring spoons closest to him, he studied them seriously, asking Fitz, “What is this?”

“Measuring spoons,” he answered with an amused chuckle, taking the spoons from Deke. “You know, for measuring things?”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” Deke agreed, only to grab an egg from the carton next, his eyebrows darting up his forehead as he rolled it between his hands. “What’s _this_?”

“That’s an egg. Be careful, it’s –” Wincing, Fitz slowly lowered his gaze to the now cracked and oozing egg on the floor, finishing lowly, “fragile.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Hastily, Deke knelt down to try and scoop up the broken egg with his hands.

“Here,” Jemma said suddenly, holding out a couple of paper towels to Deke to clean up the mess with. “It’s alright, everyone’s broken an egg or two.”

With a little snort, Fitz put in helpfully, “Or, in Jemma’s case, a _dozen_ or two.” She shot him a little glare for the remark, though there was no heat behind it.

Having cleaned up his mess, Deke stepped back up beside Fitz at the counter, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, no doubt so that he wouldn’t be tempted to investigate anything else. “So…what do we do first?”

Fitz walked Deke through the process of measuring and combining the ingredients, with only a minimal mess made. He did find himself impressed, though, by how well Deke followed instructions – especially considering how independent and sure of himself he had been when they first met.

“Now, you just need to mix it all together until the batter is smooth,” Fitz explained, stepping back to allow Deke to do it himself, though he still stayed close just in case. “And go slow, yeah? Or else you’ll spill it everywhere.”

“Okay,” Deke agreed easily, eyes narrowing in concentration as he carefully stirred the wooden spoon through the bowl of batter.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Deke,” Jemma praised from where she sat at the island behind them, and the maternal affection coloring her tone had warmth spilling into Fitz’s chest. He’d always known that she’d be a wonderful mother, but he’d truly gotten to _see_ it when they’d found out about their relation to Deke, her maternal side coming out in full-force.

“Yeah, guess we know now that he certainly doesn’t take after you,” Fitz pointed out, shooting her a smile to soften the words.

Jemma gave an insulted scoff, folding her arms over her adorable little baby bump. “In this _one_ area, perhaps. We’ve never seen him attempt anything in _my_ areas of expertise, though, so who’s to say he doesn’t take after me?”

“Is this smooth enough?” Deke interrupted, presenting the bowl to Fitz, who was surprised that he seemed almost…nervous about it.

Fitz glanced at the batter, arching an impressed eyebrow. “Yeah, looks perfect, actually.” Though he clearly wasn’t meant too, he noticed Deke relaxing slightly, a proud little grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, now we just pour it into the tin, and then they’ll go into the oven and your grandmother will get her bloody cupcakes.”

“ _Ahem_ , it’s his _mother_ , not me,” Jemma corrected, “you know how _I_ feel about sugary snacks. Actually, I’m quite sure now that this is all because _your_ daughter has inherited your sweet tooth.” Likely noticing that Deke was discreetly (or, not-so-discreetly) licking a bit of chocolate batter from his fingertips, she added fondly, “Which, she seems to have also passed on to your grandson.”

Caught red-handed, Deke blushed in embarrassment, clearing his throat and dropping his hand. “I was just…um…testing it.”

Chuckling, Fitz opened the oven, sliding the tin inside before shutting the door and setting the timer. “They’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

-

While they were waiting for the cupcakes to bake, Deke and Fitz sat down with Jemma at the island, and as per usual, his grandparents began playfully bantering about some thing or another. Deke didn’t always understand _what_ they were talking about, but he didn’t mind just sitting back and listening anyway – after all, he’d never known his grandparents and had never imagined that he’d actually get the _chance_ , so every word that came from either of them was pretty incredible to him.

However, during a lull in their conversation, Deke finally took the opportunity to ask Jemma something that had been on his mind since he’d first seen her that day. “So…um…is it weird?” She turned to glance at him curiously, so he elaborated, “Having a _person_ living inside of you?”

She laughed softly at his description, one hand coming up to rest over her rounded stomach and rubbing it absently. “It’s a little weird, I suppose. I can feel her moving around in there sometimes, kicking or shifting around to get more comfortable.”

Deke felt his eyes growing wide at that, but he couldn’t quite help it – he’d never heard of _anything_ like that before. “You can _feel_ that? She’s…she’s moving _around_ in there?”

“Yes,” Jemma answered, smiling warmly at him, “and she also happens to find it entertaining to press her little feet into my organs, apparently.”

“In a month or so, we’ll be able to feel her kicking too,” Fitz explained, a soft and loving smile crossing his lips as he also reached out to place a hand over Jemma’s stomach.

“ _Whoa_.” Stunned, Deke sat back heavily in his chair, shaking his head absently. “What…what will that be like?”

A thoughtful expression appeared on Jemma’s face, and she tilted her head back and forth in consideration, before finally answering, “To you, it’ll feel like a light tapping through my skin.” With a little laugh, she went on, “It’ll be like your mum is saying hi back.”

Just as Deke was absorbing that information, a buzzing sound caught his attention, bringing it to the oven. “The cupcakes are done,” Fitz announced, getting up from his chair and moving back over to the counter.

Hurriedly, Deke climbed out of his own chair and went to help Fitz. “I’ll get them,” he offered, opening the oven in the way that he’d seen Fitz do earlier.

“ _Wait_!” Hastily, Fitz grasped his wrist to stop him from reaching for the tin.

Startled, Deke looked up at him. “What? What’s wrong?”

Releasing a tense breath, Fitz released his wrist, picking up something from the counter that looked a bit like a baseball glove. “Here, put this on.” When Deke only continued to stare at it in confusion, he clarified, “The oven’s hot, Deke; the oven mitt will protect your hand.”

“ _Oh_.” Flushing slightly in embarrassment, Deke offered them a weak smile before slipping the oven mitt over his hand, reaching into the oven to retrieve the cupcake tin. After setting it on the counter, he immediately went to grab one of them, but once more, Fitz stopped him.

“They’re hot too,” he informed him, a little grin quirking his lips. “They need time to cool down if you don’t want to burn the roof of your mouth.”

“I, uh, I knew that,” Deke lied, sliding the oven mitt off and handing it back to Fitz.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Jemma assured him gently, gesturing him back over to sit down beside her. “This is all new to you, and it takes some time to adjust.” Offering him an encouraging smile, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a little half-hug.

Fitz rejoined them at the island, and a bit more time was spent chatting idly before he checked his watch and announced, “They should be cool enough to frost now.”

And, it was mere minutes before Deke discovered the marvel that was _frosting_. If Fitz hadn’t been keeping such a close eye on him, in fact, Deke would’ve forgotten completely about the cupcakes and just ate the frosting. He’d never had anything quite like it – it was just so _good_. How did anyone in the future survive without _frosting_?

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Fitz chastised, taking the can of frosting from Deke and arching an eyebrow at him, pointedly frosting the last couple of cupcakes himself. “You’ll make yourself sick or something if you keep eating that.”

“ _Oh_ , like you didn’t live completely off of sugar at the Academy,” Jemma piped up, giving Fitz a little look of her own. “You can’t reprimand Deke for something _you_ do, Fitz.”

Deke noticed that Fitz didn’t agree or deny the claim, instead selected a cupcake and putting it on a plate, setting it down in front of her. “There. Why don’t you be the judge of Deke’s baking skills?”

“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful,” she said without even taking a bite first, smiling warmly at Deke. Finally, though, she removed the paper covering and bit into the cupcake, her eyebrows rising in surprise, though he couldn’t tell if it was a _good_ surprise or not.

“Well?” Deke prompted, slightly hesitant. Months ago, he wouldn’t have ever imagined that he’d be nervous to find out whether or not someone liked something that he’d made, or even that one person’s opinion could matter so much to him. But, this was his grandparents, his _family_ , and whether he could bake or not would prove yet another connection he had with them, however trivial.

Waiting until she’d swallowed, Jemma directed a beaming smile at Deke. “Goodness, it seems that Fitz had better watch his back; these are _delicious_ , Deke. Your mum and I thank you very much.”

A slightly disbelieving grin spread across Deke’s lips, and he glanced between Jemma and Fitz, looking for any sign that they were just trying to spare his feelings. Fitz, however, was also eating a cupcake, and he raised an eyebrow and gave him a thumb’s up. “Really? You like them?”

“Of course! Why don’t you have one, Deke? After all, you worked so hard on them.”

If it meant that he could have more frosting, Deke certainly wasn’t going to turn that down. He grabbed his own cupcake, peeling off the paper and digging right in, taking a big bite. “Holy _shit_ ,” he mumbled around the mouthful of cupcake. “Cupcakes are _awesome_!”

Both Jemma and Fitz laughed fully at his claim, though she got up from her seat, grabbing a napkin and coming to stand in front of him. “You have frosting all over your face,” she told him, her eyes alight with amusement as she used the napkin to wipe at his cheeks.

“Thanks,” Deke said, his mouth already full once more with another bite.

 Jemma squeezed his shoulder affectionately, and Fitz gave the other a proud little pat, grinning as he said, “Cupcakes are easy; we’ll have to try something a bit more difficult next time. But, even mastering one of the easier baked goods still means that you’re better at it than Jemma.”

As they began bickering back and forth once more, Deke finished his first ever cupcake, a rush of happiness and affection for his grandparents filling him. Sure, he loved being in the past to enjoy things like frosting and Zima and fresh air, but, he knew without a doubt that the best part about it was being there with _them_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	82. Post 5x14 - Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompts: "May I request Jemma finding out she’s pregnant after 5x14 and then having to tell everybody? (Including Fitz)", and "would you have any interest in writing jemma finding out/telling fitz she's pregnant post 5x14?". 
> 
> Also prompted by @fitzsimmonsftw on tumblr: "Could I request a canon complaint Jemma telling may that she's pregnant". 
> 
> Note: Since this is set post 5x14, there are very brief mentions of the Fitz/Daisy scenes that took place.

It was entirely the wrong time, and it was entirely the wrong situation, Jemma couldn’t help but think as she watched the blood test running on her tablet through the tears already blurring her gaze. Fitz should have been there with her, they should have been doing this together, waiting for the results with their shaking hands joined between them, sharing breathless smiles every few moments.

Because of that, even though it made her feel terribly guilty, she had to admit that she almost…wanted the results to be negative, so that someday, somewhere down the road, she and Fitz could do this _right_. But, she also knew that the probability of that happening was slim to none – she’d noticed the changes in herself lately, ones that were far too glaringly obvious to be incorrectly diagnosed.

Still, Jemma closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she looked at the results of the now completed test, hoping that by some miracle, she’d been wrong.

Taking just another moment to prepare herself, she finally opened her eyes and dropped her gaze to the tablet in her hands to find the truth written out on the screen far more simply than it all really was.

And right there, in the tiny little storage closet that she’d slipped away to, in order to be alone when she got the results, Jemma broke down.

She slid down the wall behind her until she was curled up on the floor, allowing herself to truly cry – something that she seemed to be doing more often than not lately. She cradled her stomach with one trembling hand, whispering to their unborn child – their _daughter_ , “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that…that it had to happen like this. _Oh_ , you deserve to be a good thing, a _happy_ thing, but… I’m so _sorry_.”

“Simmons?”

At the concerned prompt, she glanced up sharply to find May standing in the doorway of the closet, even though she hadn’t even heard it opening.

Hastily, Jemma wiped at her wet cheeks, clearing her throat and standing up, dusting herself off as she rambled out an excuse, “Oh, I was just taking a bit of a break – you know how stressful things have been as of late…”

She trailed off, though, when May simply arched a knowing eyebrow at her.

Blinking a couple of times, only to feel more tears gathering along the rims of her eyes, Jemma inhaled a shuddering breath and made a split second decision; she should tell someone, _needed_ to tell someone, and May, with her silent understanding and lack of judgment, seemed to be the best choice if not…

So, she dropped her gaze to the floor between them, wordlessly handing the tablet over to May with the results of her blood test still displayed on the screen.

May was utterly silent for such a long time, that Jemma finally had to glance up to check her reaction, only to find her still staring down at the tablet with her lips pursed slightly, her only reaction to the news. Unable to take the silence any longer, though, she prompted quietly, “May?”

May flicked her eyes up to meet Jemma’s, and as she handed the tablet back to her, she commented, “You’ve been off for awhile.”

Jemma’s eyebrows darted up her forehead, and she asked disbelievingly, even though she truly shouldn’t have been surprised, “You _knew_?”

“I had a suspicion,” she confessed, before growing quiet once more, eyeing her. Jemma almost expected her to ask her how she felt about it, or if she was alright, or something along those lines. But, instead, she simply sighed and gestured Jemma closer, wrapping an arm supportively around her shoulders, and Jemma was reminded then that May didn’t _need_ to ask those kinds of questions – not when she already knew all the answers. So, she allowed May to lead her out of the closet and down the hall, smiling just slightly when she pointed out, “You should eat something; you skipped breakfast.”

With a breathy, barely-there laugh, Jemma admitted, “That’s because I haven’t been able to keep breakfast _down_ lately.”

But, May said, her tone firm yet somehow, still gentle, “We’ll find you something.”

And somehow, in that moment, Jemma really, truly felt as though everything could possibly be alright – eventually, at least.

-

It had only been a couple of days since Jemma had confirmed her fears of being pregnant, and she still hadn’t quite come to terms with it. Ever since Coulson had disappeared with General Hale, they’d been searching high and low for him, but May had already made the executive decision to keep Jemma firmly out of the field and out of the line of fire, which Jemma truly appreciated – however, it also left her very little to do to keep her mind busy, racing with all the possible ways that everything could very quickly go to hell.

“And, well, I’ve been going a bit mad, what with not being able to do much to help,” Jemma finished unloading her frustrations, sighing lowly and absently trailing a fingertip along the rim of her cup of mostly untouched tea.

Across the table from her, Deke gave her a warm smile and assured her, as he often did now, “Things will work themselves out; they’ll get better.”

Jemma wasn’t quite sure that she could truly believe that, not completely, not yet. But, despite that, she trusted Deke, so she smiled in return. “Thank you,” she murmured, briefly reaching across the table to give his hand a little squeeze.

Something occurred to her then, though, and her thoughts turned inward, to the baby growing inside of her, who maybe felt a bit like a spark of hope herself. Knowing that Deke was possibly the only person on the base that would be truly excited about the news, she felt the abrupt urge to share it with him. As down and upset as she was more often than not these days, she couldn’t help but want that excitement, to _want_ this baby to be something good, if only for a moment.

Giving into the urge, she leaned in across the table and informed him with a little smile, “Perhaps, things will even be better sooner than expected.”

Deke’s brow furrowed with confusion, and after a moment of mulling her words over, he gave a little shake of his head and confessed, “Um, I…I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Laughing softly, she found his hand with hers once more, explaining simply, “ _Deke_ , I’m pregnant.”

Another minute passed with Deke staring blankly back at her, before his eyes grew wide. “Wait, like _right now_? You’re pregnant _now_?”

Blinking back slightly irrational tears, she indulged in a wider smile and nodded, assuring him, “Yes, I’m pregnant _now_.”

He let out a startled laugh, a huge grin spreading across his face. Jumping up from his seat, he rounded the table and tugged her up as well and immediately into a hug. “Congrats! Wow, this is – it’s _great_! I didn’t think it’d be this soon, but wow!”

“You and me both,” Jemma replied teasingly, returning his embrace tightly, soaking up Deke’s almost child-like excitement. She had to assume that this may be the only positive reaction that she’d get to the news, and she wanted to remember exactly how it felt.

-

Early a couple of mornings later, Jemma was in Elena’s room with her and Mack, doing her daily check-in, just as she did every other morning. The couple was off in their own little world, discussing the progress on Elena’s arms and exchanging teasing and flirty little comments back and forth, as they so often did.

Jemma didn’t want to interrupt, so she made sure to be as unobtrusive as possible, quietly taking Elena’s blood pressure and her pulse, jotting her vitals down on her tablet. She was nearly finished when she stopped quite suddenly, though, enough that the other two seemed to notice.

“Jemma?” Elena prompted worriedly.

“You alright, Simmons?” Mack added in clear concern.

She couldn’t answer at first, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth and praying that the nausea would simply pass this time. But, with her luck as of late, of course it didn’t – she barely had time to turn and grab the wastebasket that she’d been using to dispose of medical waste before she was throwing up.

Just barely, she heard Mack’s surprised cry of, “whoa!”, just barely noticed that someone was scooping her hair up and away from her face as she experienced yet another bout. When it seemed she was finally finished, she straightened back up slowly, smiling tightly as she accepted a towel from Mack, where he stood behind her. “Thank you,” she mumbled, dabbing at the tears on her cheeks and wiping the towel across her mouth.

The room was absolutely silent for a beat, Mack and Elena simply gazing at her in varying expressions of surprise and concern, but then she cleared her throat to break the silence, apologizing, “I’m sorry. Now, where were we?” She wanted to finish Elena’s daily workup as soon as possible so that she could just get out of there.

However, Mack then said pointedly, “You really think I don’t know morning sickness when I see it, Simmons?”

Flushing, Jemma glanced over to find Mack with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised knowingly. But, before she could even try to find some way to reply, Elena asked in clear astonishment, “You’re pregnant?”

For a moment, she looked between them, absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then, she cleared her throat once more, nodding and murmuring, “Yes.”

Elena spoke up first, telling her with a warm smile, “That is…wonderful, Jemma. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said quietly, offering her a tiny smile in return.

His brow furrowed worriedly, Mack asked her lowly, “Have you told…”

Jemma swallowed a bit roughly, shaking her head and crossing her arms protectively over her chest as she whispered, “Not yet.”

He nodded in understanding, reaching out to place a supportive hand on her shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “Hey, congratulations. I’m really happy for you both.”

Even as she thanked him as well, Jemma still felt as though this was all wrong, that being congratulated on her pregnancy was supposed to feel different than this, was supposed to feel…thrilling and joyful, not depressing and upsetting.

And, she knew without a doubt that it was only going to get worse from there.

-

It was strange, but somehow, Jemma had always pictured that one of the first people that she’d tell she was pregnant would be Daisy, who was obviously one of her best friends. But, it was yet another thing that ended up being much different in reality from how she’d always imagined it would be. After all, things had been…strained between them since Fitz’s split, since she’d been all-but tortured at the hands of her husband.

She understood, of course, that Daisy needed space and needed time, that perhaps being around even simply someone that reminded her of Fitz was too much to handle just then. But, on the other hand, she simply missed her best friend – both of them, actually. She _wanted_ to tell Daisy, she truly did, but she wasn’t sure how she would take the news, given the circumstances, so Jemma waited.

However, she ran out of time unexpectedly when an op came up that would require her unique knowledge and skill-set to complete it, but May was still insistent on her staying at the Lighthouse and communicating with them from the command center, rather than going out with them.

Daisy seemed frustrated by the choice, but wisely didn’t argue with May about it, instead confronting Jemma after the briefing had finished. “I know you don’t want to be away from him, but some things are more important,” she told Jemma as she caught up with her by the door, a bit of impatience coloring her tone.

Jemma’s heart ached for things to be the way that they used to be, and she wished with her entire being that things had never become strained between the three of them, that she didn’t feel as though she had to choose _sides_ when no one could possibly be a winner in this situation.

And, perhaps, maybe, in her desperation for even an ounce of what they used to have, she chose to reply, “It’s not because of that, Daisy. May…May’s trying to keep me from getting hurt, she’s…well, she’s worried about my pregnancy, that’s all.”

Daisy didn’t react at first, only gaping at her for a handful of moments before taking an absent step back and asking lowly, “You’re… _pregnant_?”

Jemma nodded, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she waited for some kind of response, whether it be good or bad; she just couldn’t handle this silence, this _distance_.

She heard Daisy release a quiet breath, her gaze flicking away from Jemma, almost as though she couldn’t quite look at her. When May called from somewhere behind them that it was time to head out, she opened her mouth, as though to say something to Jemma, but then she shook her head, taking quickened steps to join May instead.

Jemma spent the next twenty minutes crying in the same supply closet that she’d found out she was pregnant in, needing a moment by herself to mourn the effortless friendship that she and Daisy had once had, one that she just couldn’t see a way to mend, not where they currently stood. Still, she was back to control in time to offer support and information to the field team when they needed it – and Deke was there with her, even though she never said a word, even though he didn’t ask, grasping her hand supportively within his.

By the time the field team returned that night, Jemma had long since locked herself in for the night in the bunk that she’d taken up while Fitz was in isolation, unable to return to the one that they’d shared since arriving there, the one that they’d celebrated their wedding night in, not alone.

However, she was awoken abruptly by a knock at the door, and blearily climbed out of bed to get it, rubbing at her sore and tired eyes as she stumbled across the cold concrete floor on bare feet. She was startled into full wakefulness, though, when she found that it was _Daisy_ on the other side of the door, and it appeared from her reddened eyes that she’d been crying as well.

Then, she shocked Jemma further by abruptly closing the distance between them, throwing her arms tightly around her and mumbling against her shoulder, “You’re gonna be such a good mom.”

Jemma sucked in a breath, then returned Daisy’s embrace fiercely, burying her face in her shoulder and somehow, even after so many days spent crying, there were still more tears waiting to be shed as they cried together.

-

He was sitting with his back to her when she arrived, legs crossed and shoulders slumped as he stared dejectedly at the wall in front of him. It had Jemma’s breath catching in her throat, her heart going out to him for all of the pain and the guilt that he was experiencing, that she couldn’t take away for him.

Still, despite that, she _did_ have something to offer, some small sliver of hope that things could get better in time, so she called softly to get his attention, “Fitz.”

Immediately, she noticed him tensing up, and it took a moment before he slowly turned to face her. He looked positively ragged, dark circles smudged under his eyes from lack of sleep, his stubble allowed to grow into a fuller beard in his time without shaving. But, it was the defeated expression written across his features that tugged at her heart the most, had tears stinging at the backs of her eyes.

“Hi,” she murmured, stepping closer to the glass and pressing her fingertips to the very bottom edge of it absently, as though seeking out some sort of connection with him.

Fitz didn’t respond at first, and the way he was gazing at her…his face was a conflicted mix of emotions, an awed and adoring look in his eyes that was so familiar to her that she could picture it perfectly when she closed her eyes, made heavy by the blame and the self-disgust very obviously weighing him down.

“Jemma…” he greeted roughly, swallowing visibly. “What…why…?”

She sniffed back the threat of tears, inhaling a steadying breath before reaching over to the keypad, typing in the code to enter the isolation room. As soon as the door was open, she noticed that Fitz had stood up, his eyes wide and almost…frightened at her bold move.

“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely, quickly shaking his head. “Jemma, you’re…you should stay out there.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Fitz,” she promised seriously, closing the door behind her and taking measured steps toward him, allowing him the chance to stop her if he really wanted to.

Though he appeared even more conflicted now, Fitz stayed where he was, warily watching as she approached. When she was finally standing in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him, close enough to be surrounded by the comforting scent of Fitz, of her best friend, of her husband, she felt as though she could truly take a full breath for the first time in days.

For a beat, she gazed into his eyes, heart constricting at the shame, at the fear (no doubt for her) passing through his. Then, in a swift movement, she took the last step between them, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest, the sound of his quickened heartbeat in her ear soothing her.

“ _Jemma_ …” She felt him hesitate for a moment, then his arms tentatively came up to hold her in return, his palms warm against her back through the thin material of her blouse.

“Things will get better,” she told him softly, tightening her grip around him in case he thought about fleeing; now that she had him in her arms for the first time in too long, she didn’t want to let him go again, not yet. “I _know_ that they will; you just need time.”

He swallowed audibly, and she felt his hands shake slightly against her back. “Now where have I heard that before?” he asked lowly, something almost like a teasing note in his voice, but it fell a bit flat.

“Well, I was right then, wasn’t I?” she pointed out, not one to be deterred. When he didn’t reply, she leaned back slightly, just enough to catch his eye. “Fitz, I _know_ , okay? They will.”

Fitz let out a long, slow breath. “What…what makes you so sure?”

Slowly, gently, Jemma slid one of her arms out from under his, wrapping her fingers around his forearm and following it down until she’d reached behind her to clasp his hand within hers. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she guided his hand between their bodies, until it was resting flat against her stomach.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the clear meaning in her gesture, his eyes rounding and seeming to glaze almost immediately with tears. “ _Jemma_ ,” he whispered shakily, his bottom lip trembling as he spoke her name, fearfully, reverently, guiltily.

“They’ll get better,” she whispered, her own voice shaking slightly under the strain of her emotions, “because our child is proof that we have a future ahead of us, a _bright_ future, one with love and…and a family. We’re going to have a family, Fitz, and…there’s nothing more hopeful than that.”

Fitz blinked rapidly, a few of the tears escaping down his stubbled cheeks, and moments after he’d inhaled a shuddery breath, he used the arm still wrapped around her to tug her fully back into his embrace, burying his face between her neck and shoulder. Jemma stroked a soothing hand over the back of his neck, carded her fingers through his curls, and as his tears soaked her skin and she could feel the press of their joined hands against her stomach, she could for the first time truly believe it herself; there really was a light at the end of the tunnel, and there really, truly was _hope_ for their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	83. Post 5x14 - Jemma and Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "I just really want to see a Daisy and Jemma friendship scene post the last episode".
> 
> Note: References to Daisy’s trauma in 5x14

Though Jemma was still positively reeling from Deke’s revelation, not mention that she was still more than rattled by the previous events of the day, but despite the fact that her world felt as though it had been turned upside down ( _again_ ), she knew that she had work to do. So, she wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks, took a deep, settling breath, and fought back the surge of emotions inside of her begging to be freed once more.

This was going to be hard enough as it was; she didn’t need to be breaking down in tears or worse, _vomiting_ again at the most inopportune time.

Plastering on the faux-cheery smile that often seemed to go hand-in-hand with her bedside manner, Jemma pushed open the door to the room in the medical wing, calling softly, “Knock knock.”

Lying in the bed, her back facing the doorway, Daisy inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She gave no other response to Jemma’s presence, and Jemma had to consciously unclench her trembling fingers from around the edges of her tablet, her heart tugging painfully in her chest.

“How –” Wincing, she cut off her question, briefly squeezing her eyes closed. The very last thing that she needed to be asking Daisy was about how she was feeling, that was for sure.

“When can I get out of here?” Daisy finally spoke up, her voice coming out low and hoarse, perhaps from the sharp sobs that had accompanied her near-constant tears, perhaps from a throat torn raw by screaming in agony, in fear.

Tipping her head back and blinking to hastily dispel the tears already gathering in her eyes, Jemma cleared her throat lightly and forced a casual, pleasant tone as she replied, “Just as soon as we know that there were no after-effects, I promise.”

Even though Daisy’s only reply was a short scoff, Jemma could tell what she had to be thinking as clearly as if she’d spoken the words aloud: if it wasn’t for _her_ husband, she wouldn’t even be there in the first place, she wouldn’t _have_ to worry about after-effects.

Taking a shaky breath, Jemma allowed herself another brief moment to resettle her tumultuous emotions before crossing the room and around the end of the bed to check the monitors that Daisy was hooked up to. It took her far longer to read the numbers displayed on the screen than it normally would have, her eyesight blurred slightly by the tears that refused to be held back.

Sniffling what she hoped was at least somewhat discreetly, Jemma quickly jotted the numbers down on her tablet, then finally turned to face Daisy herself. Her gaze was directed straight ahead, at the blank wall across from her, but faraway, as though she was anywhere else but there. There were dark smudges of makeup here and there on her cheeks and chin, left there by tracks of tears, and Jemma almost made a teasing remark about how she thought Daisy _always_ wore waterproof makeup –

 _“That way, even if you start crying – you know, if you see a sick puppy or you’re on your period or something – you’ll still look totally amazing,”_ she’d said once to Jemma, back in the early days on the Bus, when Daisy had been Skye and the only reason she could have imagined that they would be crying was because of an injured animal or an overflow of hormones.

However, she bit her tongue at the last moment, as making such a comment now would be in rather poor taste. And, somehow, she only felt worse as she brushed the fond memory aside – though, she hadn’t thought such a thing possible.

Pressing her lips tightly together, Jemma quickly raised her gaze away from the broken expression of her friend, instead focusing on the bandage on her neck. She set aside her tablet, tugging on a pair of sterile gloves and lifting a hand to check on Daisy’s wound.

“Your hand’s shaking.”

Nearly jumping out of her skin at the sudden break in the heavy silence of the room, Jemma automatically dropped her gaze and was startled to find Daisy now looking back up at her. For a long moment, she simply stared down at her in something no doubt comparable to a deer in the headlights.

After a tense moment, though, she broke their gaze to glance at her hand. It was, in fact, trembling quite terribly where it was hovering above Daisy’s neck.

Sucking in a breath and drawing her hand back to clasp them both together, in hopes of calming herself down, she murmured, “I’m sorry. I just…give me a moment.” She took a step back, coming to rest up against the wall behind her and closing her eyes for a beat, trying her best to regain control over herself, if only for long enough to finish examining Daisy before she broke down.

After all, Daisy had been the one to suffer the most, and she was the one who had been harmed at the hands of a beloved friend; the very last thing that she needed to deal with now was Jemma’s emotions about the whole thing.

But, despite her best efforts, she could feel the tears burning at the backs of her eyes, could feel a sob building in her throat, and she pressed the back of her gloved hand to her mouth, trying to keep it all in as she whispered another, more desperate, “I’m sorry,” before fleeing the room.

Or, well, she _attempted_ to.

Something was hindering her, stopping her from making her harried retreat to the nearest empty room to break down in. Glancing back, she was surprised to find that Daisy was now half-sitting up, her fingers clasped around Jemma’s wrist, her eyes wet with threatening tears of her own.

There was a desperate pleading in her widened eyes, a righteous anger in the tense set of her jaw, and an overwhelming horror in the trembling of her bottom lip. And, though she didn’t speak the words aloud, Jemma knew instinctively what she needed – the one thing that she could offer her, which didn’t feel like nearly enough, but it was all she had.

So, wordlessly, she retraced her steps until she’d closed the space between them, bending at the waist to throw her arms around Daisy, who returned the hug with a ferocity that caught Jemma momentarily off-guard. Almost immediately, she could feel the wetness of Daisy’s tears soaking the shoulder of her shirt, could feel her shaking in her embrace, and Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, her own tears slipping past her defenses and rolling down her cheeks once more.

She wanted to apologize to Daisy over and over again for the trauma that she’d suffered at the hands of the man that she loved, she wanted to try and say _something_ that might reassure her in some small way that the horrible things she feared that she would do wouldn’t come to pass, and above all, she wanted to promise her that this would be the last time that the world sought to break her and tear her apart at her seams.

But, none of the words that she could speak would change what had happened that day – nothing could, as difficult and heartbreaking as that was to come to terms with, as much as it left the terrible taste of grief and guilt on her tongue. There wasn’t a way to fix this situation; there wasn’t a way to fix Daisy, to fix Fitz, to fix their shattered friendship, and that was perhaps the hardest part for her to truly accept.

There was still one thing that she _could_ do, though, so Jemma shifted until she was sitting on the edge of the bed beside Daisy, tightening her arms around her, and simply held her as she fell apart in her arms, doing her very best to try and hold her together as much as she possibly could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	84. Pregnant Jemma + Bonding with Deke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompts: "could you write more of pregnant!Jemma - possibly canon compliant?", "If you are currently taking prompts - more pregnant Jemma? Anything that fits your muse, I just need moreeee lol", and "Could I please request Deke and pregnant Jemma bonding please?"

“A little to the left, I think,” Jemma murmured, gently guiding Fitz’s hand to follow the direction, their joined hands coming to a stop when she went on, “Ah yes, _there_.”

With the transducer probe Fitz was holding in the correct position on her stomach, the monitor of the ultrasound machine was now displaying the image of their daughter on it. It was far from the first time that Jemma had seen her, being in the seventh month of pregnancy as she was, but the sight still had tears gathering in her eyes and her heart filling with a surge of absolute love.

“ _Whoa_.”

Taken aback at the sudden remark, both Jemma and Fitz turned to glance at Deke, who was standing on her other side. His eyes were rounded as he stared at the monitor, where his mother was shifting around a bit restlessly.

Laughing softly, Jemma asked, “What’s got you so surprised, Deke? You’ve seen my ultrasounds before.”

Deke nodded absently, but then gestured to the monitor as he replied, “Yeah, but now…now she really looks like a _person_ , you know?”

Fitz chuckled a bit breathlessly then, pointing out, “Look at that, she’s sucking on her little thumb.”

“Really?!” Deke leaned in closer, letting out an amazed laugh when he saw it for himself.

Jemma glanced between her husband and grandson, who were wearing almost exactly the same fond grin as they watched the baby, and she was abruptly hit with a wave of affection. Lifting her free hand to rest against the side of her growing stomach, she rubbed it lovingly. Their whole family was together, and even though it was certainly an _unusual_ family, she truly couldn’t have asked for anything more than this.

“She looks perfect,” Jemma informed them both, unable to help the little surge of relief she felt. Though her pregnancy had been absolutely normal, she still found herself waiting for the other shoe to drop eventually – with the lives that they’d lived and their history, no one could blame her. But, even being pregnant when they’d finally broken the loop and saved the planet from breaking apart hadn’t affected their beautiful, resilient little girl, much to all of their relief.

“’Course she does,” Fitz murmured adoringly, his other hand cupping Jemma’s stomach and caressing it gently. “She _is_ perfect.”

“No wonder Mom always said you were so great,” Deke teased with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest, “it’s because she had you wrapped right around her finger, didn’t she?”

Fitz pointed mock-threateningly at Deke, even as little smile broke through. “You, _watch it_.”

“Before we finish up, we should print a couple of pictures out – you know the others are going to want to see them,” Jemma suggested, rolling her eyes fondly at their antics.

“Yeah, good idea,” Fitz agreed. “I mean, Coulson still has the other ones all hanging up on the fridge in the commissary; no doubt he’ll want an updated one.”

The excitement their friends had been showing for the pregnancy since they’d first announced it always served to bring a warm smile to Jemma’s lips. It wasn’t as though she’d expected anything less, of course; they’d always been like a family, and they all supported and cared for each other, so it only seemed right that that would extend to the children any of them might have. Regardless of that, though, it truly was just nice to have so many people around them that were just as excited about this baby as they were.

Once they’d finished, printing out a select few pictures from the ultrasound, Fitz turned the machine off and Jemma sat up with Deke’s help, wiping the gel off of her stomach and tugging her shirt back down to cover it. “Do you want to grab something to eat before we head out?” Fitz asked her, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped idly through the pictures.

“Might as well,” Jemma agreed, climbing down off the bed that she’d been sitting on. “Do we still have some of those chocolate granola bars? I’m really craving one right about now.”

“Oh!” Deke dug around in the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket, before holding out one of the bars triumphantly. “I figured I might as well carry one around with me – you’ve been living off these for weeks now.”

Jemma accepted the bar with a grateful smile. “Aww, thank you, Deke, that’s so thoughtful.” Turning to Fitz as she tore open the wrapper, she told him, “Alright, we’re all set now.”

It had taken some time after they’d managed to save the world yet again, but recently, they’d finally been removed from the government’s wanted list, reinstated as members of an organization that worked for the _good_ of the people, not against it. It was an entirely freeing feeling to no longer be considered criminals when everything they did was to stop the _true_ criminals, of course, but the best part of it had to be that they were now free to walk around outside without the threat of being arrested hanging over their heads.

And, it also meant that they could now take care of some overdue shopping, getting the necessary materials needed for their baby when she eventually arrived in the world – or, at least, getting started on it.

“Alright, good,” Fitz agreed, reaching out to take one of her hands with his, lacing their fingers together and leading the way out of the room in the medical wing that they’d set up with everything needed for her pregnancy, Deke trailing along behind them. “Hey, how many people d’you think we could freak out if we got Deke and the baby matching shirts that said ‘future son’ and ‘future mum’?”

Jemma gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes at that, smacking Fitz lightly in the side with their joined hands. “Oh hush, you. That’s not funny.”

“I mean, it’s a little funny,” Deke disagreed with a little shrug, sharing a small smirk with his grandfather.

“Oh god, the very _last_ thing I need is you two ganging up on me,” Jemma told them, waving a hand mock-dramatically. “It would be all over then.”

“Hey, Fitzsimmons family!”

Daisy was heading their way down the hall, holding a tablet and wearing a slightly tentative smile on her face. Things were still at times tense between her and Fitz, but they’d come a ways in healing together ever since Fitz’s split and the traumatic restoration of her powers. Breaking the loop and finding that Daisy was _not_ the cause of the end of the world as she’d thought had certainly helped, but nonetheless, their friendship wasn’t quite what it had been before.

However, she was still very much _Daisy_ about teasing them and Deke when it came to their strange familial relation.

“Hello Daisy,” Jemma greeted warmly. “We’ve got some new pictures of the baby, if you’d like to see them.”

“Of course,” Daisy replied, seeming insulted at the idea that she _wouldn’t_ be. “But, it’ll have to be later; we’re gonna be heading out in a few minutes to try and find out what happened with that warehouse full of SHIELD tech.” Turning to Fitz, she added, “Coulson sent me to find you – we’re gonna need you on this one.”

“What? But…” Fitz glanced at Jemma, then back to Daisy, explaining, “We were just heading out to do some shopping for the baby.”

“Which is super cute and domestic and all that, but no one else knows the tech like you do, Fitz,” Daisy pointed out, arching an eyebrow at him.

Fitz looked conflicted, obviously trying to find some way to do both, but Deke quickly offered, “I can take her today, and then you guys can get everything else you need next time.”

He considered that for a moment, then gave Jemma’s hand a little squeeze, asking softly, “Is that okay with you?”

“Of course,” she assured him, giving him a wide smile to show that she really was okay with it and understood that sometimes their jobs came first.

Fitz blew out a breath, then nodded. “Alright.” Stroking his thumb over the knuckles of her hand, he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “I’ll see you later. Have fun, yeah? But not too much; I know those baby clothes are cute, but we need to save _some_ money for the future, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Jemma agreed with a little laugh, squeezing his hand once before releasing it. With a parting smile and a wave, Fitz disappeared down the hall with Daisy, leaving just Jemma and Deke. And, turning to him, she offered him a smile and gestured a hand in the direction of the door leading out of the Lighthouse. “After you.”

It wasn’t long before they were walking side-by-side on the sidewalk in the small town above the base, the sunshine and fresh air absurdly welcoming after spending so long in the underground bunker.

“So…what do babies need?” Deke asked curiously between licks of the ice cream cone that he’d talked Jemma into stopping and getting before they started on the shopping.

“Quite a bit,” Jemma admitted. “A crib, a car seat, a stroller, clothes, diapers, bottles, pacifiers, and that’s not even getting into the more luxury items, like toys and stuffed animals.”

Deke’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Wow. I never knew babies needed so much stuff. And…you can just go out and get these things?” When Jemma nodded, he shook his head, still endlessly amazed by the convenience of the past. “In the future, people with kids were lucky if they got _half_ of that stuff, and even then they had to trade everything they had for what little they got.”

“Not anymore,” she reminded him, giving his arm a small squeeze. One of the greatest parts about changing the future had to be that people now wouldn’t be treated as they’d seen in their trip to the future, forced to fight for what little they had, to kill each other in order to stay alive; they’d secured a brighter future for the human race, and it felt wonderful. “Oh, here’s a good place to start!”

Pointing to a store that had a display decorated to look like a nursery in the window, Jemma grasped Deke’s hand, leading the way in through the glass door, and the sound of a bell rang through the little shop as they stepped inside.

Almost immediately, a middle-aged saleswoman approached them from the counter, wearing a pleasant smile as she greeted them, “Good afternoon, I’m Tabitha. How can I help you today?”

“Good afternoon,” Jemma returned the greeting warmly. “And, well…really, we’re just looking around.”

Tabitha nodded in understanding, smile still firmly in place as she glanced down at Jemma’s very obvious baby bump. “Is this your first child?”

“Yes,” Jemma replied, absently rubbing a hand over her stomach. “Is it that obvious?”

She laughed, shaking her head and assuring her, “Oh no, don’t worry; you just have that first-time mother look about you. Congratulations, by the way.”

Jemma was about to thank her, when she noticed that Tabitha was glancing between her and Deke when she said the words. Her eyes growing wide, she glanced at Deke, who appeared just as stunned as she did.

“Wait, do you – are you saying –” Deke held up his hands, taking a step back as though physically backing away from the very idea. “Oh _gross_ , no! No! It’s not like that! She’s my –”

“Sister!” Jemma blurted out anxiously, her eyebrows darting up her forehead. When Tabitha blinked in clear surprise, looking quite taken aback, Jemma tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, hastily going on, “ _Step_ -sister, of course, since he’s clearly not English. His dad married my mum, so…so I’m just his step-sister, that’s all.” Finishing with an uncomfortable laugh, she cringed internally. She’d gotten much better at lying over the years, often the situations that she found herself in demanding it, but being so caught off-guard apparently made her forget everything she’d learned.

There was a beat of tense silence, then the saleswoman offered them a painfully obvious forced smile, nodding. “Yes, well…I ah, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, then. Good luck on your shopping.” With that, she turned on her heel, moving on to the couple that had just come through the door of the shop behind them.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jemma groaned as soon as the woman was out of earshot, shaking her head and burying her burning face in her hand.

“I can’t believe she thought that we…” Deke pulled an absolutely disgusted face, giving a fierce shake of his head. “ _Gross_!”

Taking a moment to let out a quiet sigh, unable to believe how quickly things had gotten out of hand, Jemma then said, “Let’s just…look around a bit and try to forget that happened. Next time, ‘we’re not together’ will suffice.”

Deke still looked slightly disturbed, but nodded in silent agreement, following her as she meandered toward the back of the store, where there were several cribs on display. As she inspected each of them, reading the list of features and safety measures carefully, Deke’s attention was apparently caught by the mobiles attached to them.

Giving one with zoo animals a little push, Jemma watched out of the corner of her eye as the mobile spun in a slow circle, letting out a soft, soothing lullaby. Deke’s eyes grew wide in response, and he leaned in closer, as though to try and figure out what it was, or possibly how it worked.

“What is _this_ for?” he asked in bewilderment.

“It’s a mobile,” Jemma explained with a little laugh, maneuvering between the cribs to stand beside him, reaching out to briefly touch the stuffed lion hanging from it. “It plays music to help the baby fall asleep.”

“ _Oh_.” Deke nodded in distracted understanding, going on after a moment, “Kinda like how my mom used to sing me to sleep.”

Turning to him in surprise, Jemma asked softly, “She did?” Every single new detail that Deke revealed about his mother, about her daughter, was endlessly fascinating to her.

“Yeah. She said her mom and dad used to sing her to sleep too, though her dad would’ve _never_ owned up to it.”

“Yes, that sounds like him,” she murmured fondly, a tiny smile curving her lips as she imagined Fitz cradling their daughter in his arms, singing her to sleep. The picture had her heart beating a little faster, a rush of pure love filling her.

“Are you gonna get one of these…mobile things?”

Jemma hummed contemplatively, her gaze darting away from the mobiles on display to the boxed ones on the shelf nearby. “ _Ah_.” Moving past Deke and closer to the shelf, she picked up one of the boxes and turned to show him. “I wouldn’t be a very good wife if I didn’t choose this one.”

“What _are_ those?” Deke questioned in obvious confusion, leaning in and squinting at the picture on the front of the box.

Her eyebrows rose on her forehead, and laughing in surprised amusement, she advised, “Don’t _ever_ tell Fitz that you didn’t know what monkeys were; they’re his absolute favorite animal.”

“Monkeys?” he repeated the word, as though testing it out. “Huh. I think…I think maybe my mom mentioned those once or twice. Never imagined they looked like _this_ , though.”

“Oh, I have no doubt that she owned quite a few things with monkeys on them when she was a child,” Jemma assured him. “Fitz is still attempting to convince me that her entire nursery should be monkey-themed.” Chuckling to herself, she added, “Perhaps if you ask him nicely, Fitz will take you to the zoo, and you can see a real monkey. Oh! And of course, we’ll all have to go together after the baby’s born!”

After then spending a handful of moments explaining what a ‘zoo’ was to Deke, Jemma moved on to look at the selection of car seats as Deke wandered off into another section of the store. It wasn’t long, though, before he was back at her side, brandishing a children’s book about animals.

“This is pretty handy, isn’t it?” he said, flipping through the thick, cardboard pages. “I always heard about dogs, but I never knew what they looked like!” Turning the book toward Jemma, he pointed excitedly to the picture of a golden retriever with the word “dog” written in large letters on the opposite page.

Pressing her hand to her mouth to hide her laugh, she offered, “You can get the book if you want; she can have it after you when she’s a bit older. Though, I must warn you, that if Daisy ever finds out that you have that, she’ll never let you live it down.”

“Thanks,” Deke murmured, already absorbed in the book. Turning the page, his eyebrows rose and he whispered to himself, “ _Cat_? Huh.” Then, after a moment, “So _that’s_ what a guinea pig is. Always wondered.”

Shaking her head in fond amusement, Jemma then moved on to the clothes, figuring that the bigger items should probably wait until Fitz was with her to help decide. Leafing through the racks of tiny dresses and onesies, she couldn’t help but coo at every other piece of infant clothing, finding them all absolutely _precious_.

Pulling out a little pink dress with a tutu attached, Jemma held it out to show Deke. “Isn’t this _adorable_?”

He finally glanced up from his book, looking at first the dress, then the rest of the clothing. “ _Whoa_. This is all for _babies_?”

“Yes, I suppose that it’s a bit of an indulgence for parents. After all, the babies grow out of them rather quickly,” she explained, eyeing the racks of clothes herself. “But, how can you _resist_?”

“They’re all so…bright and colorful,” Deke pointed out, grabbing a yellow onesie with a picture of a frog on the front. “Oh, hey!” Putting that one back, he picked up another one, showing it to Jemma with a grin. “It’s a monkey!” Proudly, he pointed to the monkey on the front of the striped purple onesie.

“Would you look at that, it is.” She took the hanger from Deke, a tiny smile curving her lips as she noticed the little monkeys on the feet as well. “Fitz is going to _love_ this.”

-

When Fitz returned from the op that night, Jemma and Deke had already returned from their shopping trip. Though she’d stuck to her resolve not to get any of the bigger things they’d need until Fitz could go with her, Jemma had been forced to call Mack and Elena, the only ones left at the Lighthouse, to meet them in town in order to help them bring everything back to the base.

Of course, it still hadn’t _seemed_ like as much as it was until everything had been placed in the bunk beside Jemma and Fitz’s, which they intended to use as a nursery.

She was in the process of attempting to organize everything so that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad when she heard a startled, “What, did you buy out the whole store?”

Whirling around, Jemma quickly attempted to defend herself to Fitz, “What? No! It’s not…it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Arching his eyebrows, Fitz planted his hands on his hips, stepping into the room and glancing around. “It isn’t, huh? Because to me, it looks like you’ve chosen a different outfit for every day until her first birthday.”

“Oh _come on_ , that’s a bit of an overstatement.” Still, Jemma winced slightly when she took in the pile of baby clothes sitting on the floor of the room, beside the smaller pile of stuffed animals. Deke had gone a bit…crazy with them, amazed by all the different kinds of animals that existed in their world, wanting one of each for his mother.

“I _knew_ I shouldn’t have sent you out with Deke; he has no bloody self-control.” Even as he muttered the words, Jemma could tell that he wasn’t upset, given that there was an accepting, fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know how to make it up to you,” she told him, biting her lip against a grin as she crossed the room to the clothing pile, searching through it until she’d found what she was looking for. Turning back to face him, she proudly held out the little green dress with a pink skirt, the words ‘Daddy’s Little Monkey’ printed on the front, along with a picture of a monkey.

Immediately, Fitz’s expression changed, his eyes lighting up and his smile growing until it was wide enough to look as though it was hurting his cheeks. “ _Jemma_ , it’s…it’s perfect.” Closing the space between them, he wrapped her up in his arms, pressing a grateful kiss to her temple. “I love you.”

Burying her face in between his neck and shoulder, she smiled against his skin, murmuring, “I love you too.” For a moment, they simply held each other in comfortable silence, their baby safely pressed between them. However, Jemma was the one to eventually break it, informing Fitz softly, “By the way, I promised Deke that we’d take him to the zoo next weekend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	85. 5x15 - Fitz POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @queensimmons on tumblr: "can you write a thing about what went through Fitz’s mind when Jemma said she was thinking about them".
> 
> Major Spoilers for 5x15!!

From the silence that follows the sound of the door to his cell opening and closing, Fitz assumes that it is May that has returned, seeking more information that he doesn’t have, attempting to use to him for an advantage that he doesn’t think that he can offer. Daisy’s anger is still too raw, too fresh, for her to be giving him the cold shoulder, after all.

Not bothering to turn around, he reminds her tonelessly, “Again, I can’t do anything while I’m locked away in this dungeon. Like a…” Sighing wearily, he closes his eyes, burying his face in his hands and finishing, “hideous freckled step-child.”

He’s tired, he’s _so_ tired. He wants to just be left alone with his self-deprecating thoughts. He wants to be let out so that he can help the others, so that he can help them find Coulson and maybe, somehow, begin to prove that even though he is broken, he is still of _some_ use.

But, then, he hears it.

A balm to his aching heart and racing thoughts, a familiar melody in the oppressive silence of his continued isolation.

“Please, you’re not in the least bit hideous.”

 _Jemma_.

When he turns to face her, he notices immediately that she’s got tea with her, and Fitz isn’t quite sure what to think. Throughout their long friendship, bringing one another tea has come to have so many different meanings. It can be a comfort after the other has had a stressful day, or has fallen ill. It can be a peace offering, after they’ve had a particularly rough disagreement in the lab, or have one of their rare arguments of a more personal nature. It can be a “good morning” or an “I missed you today” or an “I’ve got an idea so we’re in for a long night”.

Since their friendship had taken a turn toward romantic, they’d also adopted several more meanings as well, such as a loving and concerned gesture when one wakes up alone to find that the other is still in the lab so late at night. An early morning wake-up call, steaming cups left to cool on the bedside table as kisses are spread across the backs of necks, across shoulders and along cheeks until they find lips. Or, simply, an “I love you”, a reminder at any time of day or night, when they think the other needs it most.

Fitz just hopes that this isn’t a new meaning, one _last_ meaning.

He just hopes that it isn’t meant to say “goodbye”.

“Take it you and Daisy had a productive chat,” she says, glancing up at him as she pours the tea, picking up the cups in either hand when she’s finished.

“She quaked me against the wall then stormed out, so yeah, it was quite productive,” Fitz answers distractedly, too busy watching as she approaches him, as she comes closer and closer to him, too in awe of her actually being there in front of him, to really focus on his words at the moment.

Jemma holds out one of the cups to him, and he looks down at it for only a brief moment, before raising his eyes back to her face, taking the offered cup. He recognizes the expression on her face, knows all of her expressions so well, in fact, that he can all-but read her thoughts without her ever speaking a word.

She’s got something on her mind, something that has been plaguing her, something that she needs to get off her chest straight away.

“You’ve got that look,” he points out, almost afraid to hear what that something is, though he has the feeling that he may already know.

Her expression changes then, becoming unsure and hesitant in a way that he isn’t used to seeing on her, and it twists his stomach up in knots. “I’ve been thinking about you and me,” she finally explains after a beat, “about us.”

 _And, there it is_.

It’s his greatest fear come to life; they’re the words that he’s been dreading, but expecting all the same.

And so, Fitz waits for it, waits for Jemma to tell him that she believes that he’s HYDRA too, that he’s a villain and a terrible person for what he’s done. Despite the fact that she’d told him, just the other day, that she thought that he’d done the right thing, that had been when everything was still fresh. Now, she’s had time to think, time to lay awake at night and come to realize that she’s married a monster.

Fitz thinks then, quite suddenly, of Ward, who had betrayed them all, had hurt each and every one of them, all the while thinking that what he was doing was right, was what _had_ to be done. He hadn’t deserved their forgiveness, so why should Fitz expect it himself?

He knows that if she asks, if she tells him that this, that _he_ , is no longer what she wants, he will let her go. It may just be the thing to finally do him in, it may just kill him, but he will let her go if he knows that it’s what she wants, if he knows that not doing so would only hurt her more than he already has. He can’t imagine his life without her, won’t ever stop loving her more than absolutely anything, far more than his own life, but he will accept the hollow semblance, the mockery, of a life without her, if she asks it of him, because he can’t deny her a thing, and because he knows that he doesn’t deserve her anyway.

He never has, of course; she’s always been perfect in his eyes, with a smile as bright as the sun, and a heart just as warm, an intelligence just as vast. But, he’d once been convinced that even if she was too good for him, maybe, just maybe, he could still make her happy enough, could _love_ her enough to make up for it.

Now, though, even as his heart clenches painfully his chest at the thought, he knows that nothing he could ever do would make him worthy of her, not now, not after what he’s done.

And, Fitz has no doubt that she’s realized this as well, and that is what she’s come here to tell him.

But, even though Fitz is quite sure that his actions have lost him the love of his life, his best friend, his wife (not to mention everyone else that he cares about), he still can’t find it in him to regret it – not when he knows that it was the right thing to do to save so many lives, to save _her_.

“ _Jemma_ …” he starts, wanting to say _something_ , to try and get the words out first, so maybe he can save himself just a bit of pain in hearing her speak the words herself.

“Relax,” she says before he can begin, offering him a brief but earnest smile.

But, even as she says the word, even though she seems comfortable and almost… _loving_ , and somehow, not at all disgusted by him, only a bit of the tension leaves his body.

It feels too good to be true, as though there’s a catch, as though he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, just like it has been for much of their relationship. And, if history has taught him anything, it is to trust that feeling.

“I know we get through this,” she continues after inhaling a short breath. He watches, unable to believe her words, her confidence, as she sets down her cup of tea, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans for something. “Do you recognize this?”

Fitz’s eyes flicker away from her face, down to her hand, where she’s holding out a familiar tool. It’s one of his, no doubt taken from the lab in the Lighthouse, where they’d set up what they had left of their things upon arriving here. Just to be sure, though, he scans it for the number, finding ‘17’ engraved exactly where he’d thought it would be.

Though he isn’t sure what this has to do with Jemma’s insistence that they’ll get through the rough patch that they’re currently experiencing, he takes the tool from her, answering, “Yeah, it’s mine. After my injury, I got the number engraved ‘cause I couldn’t remember the name.”

“See, that’s the thing, this one’s yours.”

Confused, Fitz glances up, finding that Jemma is now holding out an identical tool, though it is much cleaner and newer, less rusted and overused than the one in his hands. He takes the other one from Jemma, glancing back and forth between them and eyeing the ‘17’ in the same exact place on each of them, trying to understand how there could possibly be two.

She takes another deep breath, then explains, “The other tool belongs to Deke…who got it from his grandfather.”

_What?_

For a moment, the information doesn’t quite register, and Fitz glances back and forth between the two tools once more, trying to make sense of it. But, then it slowly begins to sink in, as impossible as it seems.

“He’s my…” Fitz’s eyebrows raise as he corrects himself softly, gazing at Jemma in disbelief, “ _our_ …grandson.”

 _Deke_. Deke is their _grandson_? It just doesn’t make _sense_. How could…

Fitz thinks back over the last couple of weeks, to every moment since he’d first met Deke, all of the times that he’d thoroughly annoyed him or insisted on helping him or made digs about them screwing up and blowing up the planet.

“But…he’s the worst,” he says finally, making a face and looking up at Jemma, almost as though he expects that she’s going to tell him this is all a joke, that he’s not _actually_ their grandson.

Jemma laughs softly, though, kneeling before him and resting her hands on his knee as she tells him quite seriously, the words rife with fondness and affection, “I think he’s perfect.” As Fitz pulls another disbelieving, likely horrified face as he stares at the twin tools in his hands, she goes on, “Plus, his very existence proves that you and I make it to the Lighthouse, and live long enough to raise a daughter.” She takes a soft breath, then asks him, “Do you see what this means?”

“Yeah,” Fitz replies quickly, “I do. It means that our daughter’s obviously going to marry a belligerent space goon and she’s gonna give birth to a _Deke_.”

“No Fitz,” Jemma disagrees, shifting so that she’s directly in his line of vision, placing her a hand on either one of his knees, “it means you and I are invincible.”

After the shock of finding out that they not only have a grandson, but that he is apparently _Deke_ , the words hit Fitz hard, tugging him straight back into the present. Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, he gazes down at Jemma, taking in the determination and intense love for him written on her face, burning in her eyes.

He releases a shaky breath, his hands dropping into his lap, the tools forgotten for the moment. He notices her shifting once more, rising up on her knees, and without her having to say a word, Fitz understands, reads her intention clearly. Bending forward, he meets her halfway, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers, a world-weary sigh passing his lips.

Though her words are everything that he hasn’t dared to hope for, everything that he’s dreamed of but still doesn’t think that he deserves, he can’t help but consider the implications of them as well. According to Jemma, according to _Deke_ , they’re going to live long enough to have a family, to have a _daughter_ (and, he can’t help but wonder for a moment what she’ll look like, what she’ll be like, if she’ll have Jemma’s smile, if her nose will scrunch when she’s especially amused, if she’ll have Jemma’s beautiful brown eyes and caring heart), but, has him feeling flicker of fear. Fear that this means the end of the world may have to come to pass in order for them to have this future together, that they may no longer have it if they do manage to break the loop and somehow change the future and save the planet, that something may happen to change _that_ part of their future as well.

There’s no way to know for sure, though, and it worries him, certainly. But, he also wonders too if he’s already changed that future, if his actions have already guaranteed that their life together, their family may never happen.

After what he’s done, after the time in this cell spent wallowing in self-hatred, Fitz can’t quite believe that there’s any future where he deserves to be forgiven, to be happy, where he deserves Jemma and deserves to have a family with her.

On the other hand, though…Fitz has to admit that he trusts Jemma more than anything, and he trusts her words, her strong opinions and her confidence, trusts her belief in them. He trusts the way that she’s squeezing his hands within hers just then, the way that she’s staying by his side and the way that she’s taking comfort in the life that Deke has painted for them, trusts that she knows what and _who_ she’s putting her faith and future in.

Maybe…maybe she is right; maybe they really _could_ be invincible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	86. Deke in Danger + FS to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "can I get the first time Deke is in real danger after they find out and Grandpa and Grandma to the rescue".
> 
> Minor Spoilers for 5x15.

“How did everything go?” Jemma asked as soon as she and Fitz entered the control center of the Lighthouse, where the rest of the team had gathered after Coulson, Daisy, Mack, and Deke had returned from a mission out to try and secure the gravitonium that Hale had been keeping securely hidden. They’d gotten a lead on it recently, and set out almost immediately in order to get it out of her hands as soon as possible.

However, she froze instantly when she scanned over the group and found that everyone else was there – except _Deke_. They all turned to glance at their entrance, and she opened her mouth to demand straight away to know where he was.

“Where the hell’s Deke?” Fitz asked before she could, stepping quickly closer to join the others, his eyes narrowed in concern.

Coulson released a heavy sigh, moving to meet Fitz and Jemma halfway as he explained, “We were ambushed; there was a lot going on, and we had to get out while we could.”

“What does that mean?” Jemma questioned, her voice raising an octave as she began to panic slightly. Deke couldn’t be…he had to be _fine_ ; she would accept nothing less. Fitz’s hand found hers, his fingers slotting into place between hers, and it provided her a measure of comfort, but not enough, not when she didn’t know where her grandson was.

“Creel grabbed him,” Mack answered, letting out a breath and shaking his head.

“Well what are we doing to get him _back_?” Fitz asked, arching his eyebrows and glancing around at the others in the room expectantly.

There was a beat, then Coulson replied slowly and evenly, “We are going to get him back, but we don’t have the time and manpower to put everything else aside to focus on that. We need to put everything we have into stopping Hale from accidentally tearing the planet apart – and when we do, we’ll get Deke back. It’ll be killing two birds with one stone; it makes the most sense.”

“No it _doesn’t_!” Jemma glanced around in disbelief, unable to believe that everyone else agreed with Coulson about sacrificing Deke in order to take down Hale first. “Sir, we’re not just going to abandon our grandson!”

What followed her outburst was a very long period of silence, in which everyone else in the room appeared to have become motionless in sheer shock, staring blankly at Fitz and Jemma. But, Mack was the one to finally break the silence, arching his eyebrows and asking what they were all no doubt thinking, “ _What_?”

Fitz and Jemma exchanged a glance, then he cleared his throat and replied, “Uh, well, it’s like Jemma said: Deke’s our grandson.”

Another moment of silence passed, then Coulson blinked and said simply, “Okay.” Turning on his heel to face the others, he told them, “We’re going to need to step up our search, try and find out where Hale’s taken Deke as soon as possible, and what she wants with him.” He shot a glance in Fitz and Jemma’s direction, then stepped off to the side with May, whispering something to her that they couldn’t hear.

Though Jemma wanted to ask what that was all about, she didn’t bother for the moment, glancing up at Fitz when he gave her hand a reassuring little squeeze and murmured, “I’m gonna go help them with the search.”

She nodded in understanding, reluctantly releasing his hand, only to fold hers together, wringing them anxiously. Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus on not letting her concern overwhelm her. From what Coulson had told them after his brief stint with Hale, she didn’t want to harm any assets that she thought could be of us. It should’ve been enough to placate her, but she also knew that she wouldn’t stop worrying until Deke was in her sight and most importantly, _safe_.

“Simmons?”

At the soft call of her name, she turned to find that Daisy had approached her, a quietly incredulous expression on her face. Jemma swiped at an escaped tear on her cheek before facing her completely, greeting, “Hello Daisy.”

Daisy gave her a look, then shook her head, whispering in shock, “Deke is your _grandkid_? When did _that_ happen?”

Jemma offered her a small semblance of a smile and a little shrug. “Well, it would be safe to assume that it happens sometime in the future.”

Rolling her eyes, Daisy clarified, “No, how long have you _known_? Why didn’t you…”

Releasing a quiet sigh, Jemma let her gaze stray briefly over Daisy’s shoulder, where Fitz was standing at the bank of computers. “Deke told me a couple of weeks ago,” she explained finally, “and then I shared the news with Fitz a few days later. We were still adjusting to the idea ourselves, and so much else was happening that we simply…decided not to tell everyone else yet.”

For the briefest of moments, Daisy looked almost…hurt by this information, but then she gave another shocked little shake of her head and admitted, “Wow, I never would’ve guessed that Deke was a _Fitzsimmons_.”

Jemma gave a little laugh at that. “Ah, yes, well as Fitz is so fond of claiming, everything unsavory about Deke clearly came from the _other_ half of his DNA. But, I think that he’s just rather protective of our daughter; you know, that whole ‘no one would ever be good enough’ thing that so many fathers subscribe to.”

Daisy’s eyebrows rose and she asked softly, “Daughter? You guys are gonna have a _daughter_?”

Smiling widely and nodding, Jemma couldn’t help the little rush of relief that she felt at finally being able to tell someone the incredible news. Her voice was filled with awe as she told Daisy, “She sounds absolutely perfect.” However, it was only a moment before her face fell as she thought about all the time that she’d spent with Deke recently, learning more and more about her future daughter, his mother, and how much he’d loved her.

Daisy reached out briefly to grasp Jemma’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. Quietly but firmly, she assured her, “Don’t worry Simmons, we’re gonna find him.”

-

Late that night, Fitz was up and restlessly wandering through the halls of the Lighthouse, as he’d taken to doing since he’d been let out of isolation. He hadn’t been able to find sleep – just like he hadn’t been able to in the time since his breakdown, always finding himself plagued by nightmares of what he’d done, of what he feared he’d been capable of, of what he still _could_ do.

However, he’d hated to leave Jemma that night more than any other. She had struggled to fall asleep, pressing herself close to him and burying her face between his neck and shoulder, crying at feeling so helpless to find Deke and bring him back home, at being unable to protect him. He’d been able to do little else but hold her through it, promising to do whatever he could to save their grandson. And, he fully intended the keep those promises, even if he didn’t know quite know _how_ he was going to yet.

Once she’d finally managed to fall asleep, it was clearly a restless sleep, and she was constantly tossing and turning, reaching out for something that wasn’t there. Fitz had wanted to be there for her, in case she woke up needing comfort, but the walls of their bunk had started to feel too confining and he’d needed to take a short walk to try and clear his thoughts as best he could.

He was just passing by the open door of control, however, when he decided that he should probably head back soon, and was just turning back around to do just that, but was startled into pausing by the sudden sound of voices coming from the room.

After a moment, Fitz managed to pick them out as Coulson and May, and they both sounded tense and worried. His first thought was that they’d found out something about Deke, and he moved closer to the door, trying to hear a bit better.

“You know they’d want to know,” May was hissing at Coulson, clearly disapproving of some decision that he’d made.

Coulson sighed heavily, sounding as though he had the weight of the world resting squarely on his shoulders. “May, you know we need them here. And, who knows what she wants them for – it could only make things worse than they already are.”

There was a beat of silence, then May replied firmly, “It needs to be their decision, Phil. It’s _their_ family.” Coulson didn’t answer, save for sighing in resignation, and she then called, “You can come in, Fitz.”

Fitz was more than a little stunned at being caught, but supposed after a brief moment of thought that he really shouldn’t have been. He stepped in through the door, finding May perching on the edge of the desk that Coulson was sitting at, leaning back in his chair and making a steeple with his hands.

Moving closer, Fitz cut straight to the chase and asked, “Have you found Deke?”

Coulson frowned deeply, rising up out of the chair and approaching Fitz as he offered, “Perhaps you want Simmons to be here for this too.”

“Don’t bother,” May said suddenly, nodding behind them.

Surprised, they both turned to find Jemma hesitating in the doorway, feet bare and wearing the pajama pants and t-shirt of Fitz’s that she’d worn to bed. Expression filled with concern, she climbed the stairs to join them, telling Fitz softly, “I woke up to find you missing, and tried to track you down.” Focusing on Coulson then, she prompted shakily, “Tell us.”

Coulson sighed, planting his hands on his hips and informing them plainly, “We managed to get into contact with Hale – or, well, she got into contact with us. She made it clear that she’ll only return Deke to us…in exchange for the two of you.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Fitz glanced down at Jemma, only to find her already watching him with alarm in her widened eyes. “Will she take just one of us?” he questioned, his voice coming out low and rough.

He noticed Jemma’s eyes narrowing as Coulson replied uncertainly, “I’m not sure.”

Fitz opened his mouth to tell him to ask as soon as possible, but Jemma, keeping her now determined gaze locked on Fitz’s, said resolutely, “It doesn’t matter; we’ll do it.” He immediately went to protest, but she shook her head, grasping his left hand between both of hers, her thumbs pressing against his ring. “Fitz, you know that we’re stronger together, and…and I absolutely refuse to be separated from you anymore.”

He let out a slow, shaky breath.

-

Scowling up at the masked robot guards holding either of his arms, Deke demanded to know, “Where are you taking me this time, huh?” After all, in the past two days, he’d been snatched right out of a firefight, thrown onto a quinjet, and then shoved into a tiny, empty room in an underground base filled with a confusing number of hallways.

What was next – were they going to thrown him into an _actual_ jail cell?

“Home.”

Craning his neck around to find the source of the voice behind him, Deke caught sight of General Hale striding down the hallway, hands clasped behind her back. He arched his eyebrows at that, far too smart to believe that she was just going to let him go. “Oh yeah? What’s the catch? If you were just gonna give me back, what the point of taking me here in the first place?”

She didn’t say anything, though, only nodding her head to the guards. They then began leading Deke through the halls, until they reached a hangar, where he was put back onto another quinjet with Hale and the guards. However, they were joined at the last minute by the big dude that had grabbed him in the first place, and the creepy bearded guy with an accent that he’d noticed lurking around the base as well.

The whole time they were in the air, Deke bounced his leg up and down anxiously, constantly peppering the other occupants of the plane with questions that were only ignored. Finally getting fed up with it, he pointed out loudly, “You know, where I come from, you at least got some answers as to _why_ you were being held hostage. And the Kree were like, actually _evil_ , so.”

From the cockpit, Hale turned around and smiled in a way that had a shiver travelling up Deke’s spine. “Relax; you were just a pawn in a much bigger game, Mr. Shaw,” she replied simply, before turning back around.

He didn’t have a single word to say to that (and he could hear Fitz’s voice in his head, saying dryly, “that’s a first”), so he sat quietly until the quinjet landed, when the guards then grabbed him and yanked him up out of his seat.

Hale led the way down the ramp, Deke and his guards behind her, and the other two flanking him, but he found himself utterly confused when they stepped off the plane and into what appeared to just be a big, empty field.

Just as he was about to comment on it to his captors, he noticed another ramp suddenly opening out of nowhere across the field from them, indicating that there was another cloaked quinjet there.

Deke lit up when he saw Coulson and May leading Fitz and Jemma out of the plane, and both groups began crossing the field until they met in the middle. Jemma immediately closed the distance between them, framing Deke’s face in her hands and tilting his head back and forth to check him for injuries as she inquired a bit breathlessly, “Are you alright?”

He nodded quickly, and with his hands now free, he reached up to grasp Jemma’s wrists in them and gently tugged her hands away from his face. A relieved grin tugged at his lips as he glanced between his grandparents and informed them, “You have no idea how glad I am to see you guys.”

Fitz smiled slightly, clapping a hand on Deke’s shoulder as he replied, “We have a pretty good idea, actually.”

Hale broke into the moment, saying sharply, “Alright, let’s get out of here,” and much to Deke’s confusion, Jemma and Fitz were then grabbed by the bearded guy and the big bald dude, and though Fitz shot a glare up at the bearded guy, they didn’t fight it.

They were led away, back toward the quinjet he’d arrived in, and Hale shot Coulson a smile over her shoulder that had his jaw tensing in response.

“Wait, what…” Deke asked, trailing off as he automatically stepped forward, trying to follow them, but was stopped when May grabbed his arm and tugged him back. He looked at her in bewilderment, but she just gave a sharp shake of her head in response.

As Fitz and Jemma were being led up the ramp, Jemma glanced back over her shoulder, meeting Deke’s eyes and offering him a reassuring smile, but it was cut off after a handful of seconds by the ramp closing, and it was mere moments before it was lifting off the ground.

“What are you doing?” Deke shouted bewilderedly, turning to Coulson and May with wide, terrified eyes. “Why are you letting them – we have to stop them!”

But, Coulson shook his head, sounding defeating as he told him simply, “It was a trade, Deke.”

And finally, Deke understood, tilting his head back to watch the quinjet fly off to who knew where, his shoulders sagging as the truth hit him.

His grandparents had traded themselves to save _him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	87. Post 5x15 - Jemma Hurt on Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrriten for the prompts: "would you be able to write a fic where Fitz and Deke are being protective of Jemma and worried about her after she gets hurt because she is being a bit reckless because Deke told her the future so now she thinks she’s invincible and won’t die until after she and Fitz raise their daughter", "Jemma gets hurt on a mission after 5x15 and she has to get tests run on her and they find out she’s pregnant", and "ould you please write a fic that addresses the issue that Jemma is the only one who can patch up the team, like what would happen if she gets hurt. Idk maybe someone letting Fitz out of confinement because he could use the knowledge of the framework to help her, or the team is force to come out of hiding to take her to a hospital or something angsty pleaaaase :)".

 “Maybe I could just talk to Daisy –”

With a quiet sigh, Jemma paused in her stride down one of the halls of the Lighthouse, finally turning to face Deke, who had been trailing behind her since they’d left control. “Deke, you heard her; it’ll be more dangerous to bring anyone more than necessary.”

Deke planted his hands on his hips, pointing out a bit desperately, “Yeah, but – but I could just stay on the Zephyr, run back-end or something. Or, maybe if we just _tell_ Daisy about us, she’ll let me come.”

Jemma gave a little shake of her head, smiling fondly and reaching out to squeeze Deke’s shoulder reassuringly. “You don’t know enough about the Zephyr to do that, remember? And, you know we agreed that now isn’t the right time; we’ve all got enough going on as it is. Besides, you’re needed here.”

“To do what? Just sit around waiting for you guys to come back?” he asked, frustrated by being sidelined, but more importantly, by not being able to stay by his grandmother’s side and make sure that she was alright at all times.

“Of course not; with the rest of us gone, you and Yo-Yo will be in charge.” Arching her eyebrows, she leveled a serious look at him. “We can trust you to be in charge, can’t we?”

Deke rolled his eyes with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, lowering his voice to remind her, “You may be my grandmother, but I’m not a _kid_ you know.”

She chuckled softly, catching one of his hands to cradle it between both of hers. “Deke, I promise you, everything will be alright. We’re not even sure these coordinates are for real, and we may be back before you even know it; but, on the off chance that we really have found where Hale is hiding Coulson, I need to be there, just in case she’s done something to him.”

“Do you really think she would?” Deke asked, briefly sidetracked as he furrowed his brow worriedly. Sure, he hadn’t gotten off on the right foot with Coulson (or anyone on the team, really), but he wouldn’t want anything to happen to him – he was a pretty cool guy, as far as Deke was concerned.

Jemma chewed her bottom lip for a beat, then gave a little shrug. “I’m not sure. She does have someone working for her that’s extremely careless and reckless, which is worrying, but Piper’s still confident that Hale doesn’t _want_ to hurt anyone.”

Deke supposed that that should’ve made him feel a bit better, but it really _didn’t_. Taking a half-step closer to her, he told her seriously (though a bit awkwardly – this was still new for both of them), “Just…be careful, okay?”

Her expression softened, and she gently squeezed his hand between hers, assuring him once more, “I’ll be fine, Deke. You know I will be.” With a soft laugh, she added teasingly, “I know that in protecting me, you’re protecting your own future, but I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, so don’t worry.” With that, she gently released his hand, turning to continue on her way to the hangar. However, she paused, possibly catching sight the frown now tugging his lips down at the corners. With another reassuring smile, she insisted firmly, “I’ll be alright, Deke.”

As Jemma then turned to leave, Deke watched her for a moment, a strange sense of foreboding filling him as he mumbled to himself, “That’s not it at all.”

-

It’d only been an hour since the Zephyr had departed from the base, but Deke couldn’t help but be nervous as he waited in control for some indication of how things were going. Of course, he _knew_ that the team had gone radio silent in order to be even less likely to be tracked by Hale, so he wouldn’t even hear from them until they were on their way back, but still, he found himself waiting anxiously for contact.

He was fine for awhile, but eventually he couldn’t sit still any longer, so he began pacing the length of the room, but it only took a short amount of time before he just couldn’t take the silence and the waiting any longer.

Instead, Deke began wandering the base, trying to find something to take his mind off of worrying, most likely needlessly, about Jemma out in the field for a little bit.

However, he didn’t quite expect to find that subconsciously, his feet had led him right to the hall that led to where Fitz’s isolation room was.

Deke froze when the realization of where he was hit, glancing around in surprise and confusion, and a surge of trepidation filled him as he stared down the long hallway to where his grandfather was being held.

He knew that Jemma had shared the news with Fitz about who he was, but Deke hadn’t had a chance to talk to him in the handful of days since. Truthfully, he wasn’t really sure _what_ to say to him, especially with everything that Fitz was going through at the moment; the last thing he wanted was to somehow make things _worse_.

For another few moments, Deke hesitated there, considering just turning around and focusing on Jemma for now, putting off going to visit Fitz for another day. But, then he blew out a breath, squared his shoulders, and began taking slow, measured steps forward until he was standing before the thick glass window.

Fitz’s back was to him, and he could see that he was idly flipping through the pages of a book, quickly enough that Deke knew he wasn’t really reading it.

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t quite bring himself to say anything at first, the words freezing on his tongue. Then, however, he took a breath and tried again, saying simply, “Hey.” He couldn’t help but cringe slightly, though, when the word came out hoarse.

Clearly startled, Fitz lowered the book, twisting around to look at Deke. He stared at him for a beat, then slowly set the book down the table beside him and got up from his chair, taking a half-step toward the window. “Hey.”

Awkwardly, Deke ran a hand over the back of his neck and let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “So, uh, should I call you grandpa, or…?”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose, and he let out a short huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.” He paused, then slid his hands into his pockets, shifting a bit on his feet before he asked, “What…uh, what d’you call Jemma?”

Caught a bit off-guard by the question, Deke stumbled out the answer, “Oh, um, well, we haven’t really…talked about it. Not yet, at least. Haven’t had the time.”

Fitz nodded in understanding, then a long stretch of silence settled between them, neither seeming to really know quite what to say.

Deke had just decided to say _something_ , to blurt out the first thing that he could think of, just to break the ice a little, when Fitz beat him to it, saying almost roughly, “Jemma told me about…about your mum, about what she told you.”

Nodding rapidly in reply, Deke hastily assured him, “Yeah! Yeah, definitely, she talked about you guys _all the time_. She thought you were like, the best parents ever.”

He’d hoped the confirmation would at least put a smile on Fitz’s face, but it seemed to do the exact opposite; Fitz made a bit of a face and dropped his gaze to the floor between them as he soaked in the words silently. Finally, though, he admitted lowly, “I don’t see how that’s possible. I don’t see how my daughter could ever look at me and see…see someone worthy of such love and admiration.”

Deke felt his eyes growing wide in his face, and he took an automatic step closer to the glass, shaking his head quickly as he insisted, “No, no, she really did. She loved you, _so much_. You were the greatest man that she ever knew.”

Fitz’s jaw clenched visibly, and he gave a jerky shake of his head, whirling around abruptly and slapping both hands down onto the table behind him, bending over and taking a deep, shaky breath.

Deke felt utterly helpless; he didn’t know what to do to help – he didn’t even really know _Fitz_. Usually, Jemma was there to place a soothing hand on his shoulder, to calm him simply with her touch, to whisper words of comfort in his ear until he relaxed a little.

Now (for the moment, at least), he was on his own. So, Deke tried his best to reassure Fitz, absently placing both hands on the glass as he told him, “Everything’s gonna be okay, don’t you see? This is just…it’s temporary, it’ll get better –”

“It can’t _possibly_ get better,” Fitz cut him off to grit out tightly, “not after the things I’ve done. We’re more than a team, Deke. We’re more than friends – we’re a _family_ , and I betrayed their trust, don’t you understand? I’ll never be the man that your mum described; I don’t _deserve_ to be seen as that man.”

Unable to let this continue, Deke didn’t think, he just typed in the pass code that Jemma had entrusted him with, opening the door and stepping into the room. He went right up to Fitz, hesitating for only a second before placing a hand on his shoulder. Lowly, confidently, he told him, “You _do_ deserve it. I mean, I haven’t known you that long, but I’ve _seen_ the man that my mom spoke so fondly of in you, and I know that’s who you really are. You’ll come out the other side of this and…and be the father that your daughter needs.”

Fitz blew out a long, slow breath, then turned his head to peer at Deke, giving a little shake of his head. With a tiny, disbelieving smile, he reminded him, “How could you possibly think that? I’ve been nothing but short-tempered with you since we met.”

Deke shrugged at that, chuckling as he pointed out, “Ah, well, someone’s gotta keep me in line, I guess. My mom always said that if she didn’t keep an eye on me, I’d be likely to just run wild.”

Letting out a quiet laugh, Fitz straightened back up and absently ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ll…I’ll try to be a bit more patient. Jemma’s always telling me to slow down and take a breath before I get overwhelmed and upset, but…our deadlines are a little more pressing these days than they were back in school.” He paused, then asked Deke once more, a tad unsurely, “She really was happy? That I was her dad? I mean, she’d be the luckiest kid alive to have Jemma as a mum, but…”

“She couldn’t have asked for anyone better – when it came to _both_ of her parents,” Deke promised seriously, making sure that Fitz met his eyes so that he could see that he meant it.

Fitz released a shaking breath, then nodded once, and Deke was pretty sure that he still didn’t quite believe it, but he wasn’t deterred; he was going to make sure that he did.

Changing the subject abruptly, Fitz asked with a fond chuckle, “Was Jemma the one to send you down here? She seemed pretty keen on us getting to know each other better the last time we spoke.”

The innocuous question suddenly reminded Deke about the mission that the team had left on hours ago now, focusing on one grandparent apparently pushing the other to the back of his mind temporarily. Concern filling him, he grasped Fitz’s wrist and turned it to glance at the time on his watch, his eyes going wide as he swore under his breath. “She went out with the others to – they were trying to find Coulson, but they…they should’ve been _back_ by now, or at least made some kind of contact.”

Fitz’s expression went startlingly blank, and he immediately began peppering Deke with questions about when they left, where they were going, who went with her. But, before he could answer a single one of them, the intercom crackled to life in the hall, and a voice could be heard echoing throughout the base, “ _All available agents please report to the hangar immediately.”_

Deke felt his heart stop in his chest, just briefly, and he promised Fitz hurriedly, already stepping back toward the door, “I’ll be back to let you know what’s going on as soon as I can!”

“Wait, no!” Fitz called after him, but Deke wasn’t thinking of anything but getting to Jemma, his entire concentration narrowing to making sure that she was okay as he shut the door of the containment room behind him, rushing through the halls until he was skidding to a stop just inside the hangar.

The Zephyr was back in its usual place, and the ramp was already down, and at first he couldn’t see anyone and his heart was racing erratically in his chest. Then, Daisy and May were striding quickly down the ramp, followed almost immediately by Mack. They were all splattered with blood here and there, but Deke barely took note of it, because then he noticed that Mack was carrying a limp Jemma in his arms.

She looked so small, so pale, and there was blood soaking her shirt, and Deke was almost sure that he was going to be sick.

The first person to reach him was Daisy, and he hastily reached out to grasp her arm, demanding shakily, “What – what _happened_?”

She tried to shake his hand off, insisting tightly, “We don’t have time, Deke; we need to get Jemma to medical.”

But, Deke refused to let go, repeating more firmly, “Daisy, what the hell _happened_?”

Daisy blew out a short, tense breath, then finally told him curtly, “Simmons got shot, alright? Let me go now.”

Deke’s hand grew limp, enough that it fell from Daisy’s arm, and she moved to flank Mack with May as he carried Jemma to the gurney some other agents already had waiting for them. Jemma whimpered in obvious pain as she was set down, her face scrunching up with it, and it snapped Deke out of the stupor that he’d briefly slipped into.

He rushed to catch up with them as they began moving in the direction of the medical wing, and he noticed pretty quickly that Daisy and one of the other SHIELD agents that he didn’t know the name of were arguing under their breath, though he couldn’t make any of it out.

That was, until Daisy asked sharply, “What do you mean _no one_?”

Unable to quite keep the desperation out of his voice, and beyond caring now if they all knew who he was and how he was connected to Jemma, Deke demanded, “What’s wrong?”

Daisy shot him a look, but didn’t say anything, so May told him tersely, “We don’t have another doctor here; it’s just Simmons.”

“May and I did the best we could on the way back here with what little we’ve picked up over the years,” Mack added, “but it’s not enough.”

Deke was grasping at straws then, eyes constantly flicking to Jemma, and up close, he could now see the once sterile white dressing on her chest, blood now soaking through it, more and more by the second. He pointed out almost frantically, “Fitz is a doctor too, right?”

“ _No_ ,” Daisy said instantly, her eyes narrowing.

May shook her head at him, replying lowly, “It’s not the same thing.”

“Can’t you at least let him _try_?” Deke asked, unable to believe that no one was going to do _anything_.

Before anyone could say anything, though, they finally reached the medical wing, where Elena had apparently been waiting for them, as she joined them then, her eyes going wide as she took in the sight of Jemma. “What happened?”

Jemma was brought into the closest room, and May went through the process of getting her attached to the various monitors waiting there straight away.

Mack sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest, where there was a large bloodstain across his shirt – _Jemma’s_ blood – and he finally answered Elena, “Simmons got hit when we came under fire.”

“Why isn’t anyone doing _anything_?” Deke questioned loudly. “We have to help her!” When no one said anything, a tense silence settling in the room, he shook his head and said decisively, “I’m going to get Fitz.”

“No!” Daisy immediately argued, taking an automatic step in his direction, as though to stop him herself.

Holding up his hands in exasperation, Deke told her, “Look, I’ll take responsibility, but we _need_ him, alright? Do you want her to die because of something that she had no control over?”

Daisy clearly hesitated, glancing between Jemma and Deke, but then she said tightly, “I’m coming with you.”

Not waiting to even make sure that she was behind him, Deke took off at a run, making a direct beeline for Fitz’s room. He came to an abrupt halt outside of it, briefly catching sight of Fitz pacing tensely through the window before he typed in the code with trembling fingers, throwing open the door and telling Fitz urgently, “Come with us.”

Fitz just briefly glanced over his shoulder, no doubt at Daisy, before he wordlessly followed the direction, hurrying out of the room and following Deke as he began rushing back toward the medical wing.

As they were running, Fitz asked him breathlessly, “What’s going on?”

However, Deke just shook his head, unable to say the words, to be the one to tell him. “Just…you’ll see.”

They burst back into the room, and Fitz sucked in a sharp breath, instantly going to Jemma’s side, as though pulled there by some magnetic force. He grasped her hand in his, studying her with narrowed eyes before asking in a low, deceptively calm voice, “How long as she been unconscious?”

“About twenty minutes,” Mack answered behind him, “she was awake for about ten minutes after, but not really alert, and then she was just out.”

Fitz soaked that in for a long moment, then demanded to know, “Why isn’t anyone doing a damn thing?”

“Simmons is our doctor, Fitz. You know that,” May reminded him, one hand keeping pressure on Jemma’s wound, but the other curled tightly at her side, her lips pressed into a firm line with what appeared to Deke to be helplessness, though he never knew when it came to May.

Fitz swallowed visibly, his jaw tensing, and Deke asked him urgently, “Can’t you…?”

But, Fitz shook his head in reply, muttering, “I’ve only assisted Jemma on medical procedures, and never anything like this.” There was a beat, then he looked up to meet May’s eyes across the bed and said, leaving no room for arguments, “She needs a hospital.”

“Whoa, Turbo,” Mack put in, arching his eyebrows in surprise, “that’s too dangerous.”

“If we don’t get her some help, she’ll _die_ , Mack,” Fitz reminded him sharply. His voice was thick with tears and emotion, and his hands were shaking where they were cradling Jemma’s, his fingers distractedly playing with her wedding ring. “I won’t put anyone else in the line of fire, but…but I’m taking Jemma, consequences be damned – I’ll take them, whatever they are, as long as she’s okay.”

Not missing a beat, Deke said quickly and firmly, “I’ll come with you.”

Fitz glanced up at him sharply, giving a quick shake of his head. “No. No, you need to stay here. The more of us that leave the base, the more likely it is that we’ll be discovered.”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Deke insisted, holding up a hand when Fitz opened his mouth, “and we don’t have time to argue.”

May looked conflicted and more than a little upset by the turn that things had taken, but it was Daisy that finally whispered, “Alright.” Without quite meeting Fitz’s eyes, she handed him a packet of fresh gauze for Jemma’s wound, telling him, “We’ll get you as close as we can and keep an eye on the local police. If they…if they find out anything, we’ll try to let you know as soon as possible, maybe get you guys out before…”

Fitz nodded in understanding, opening the gauze after a few false starts, his hands trembling almost too much to get the job done, before he pressed it over the old, ruined gauze covering Jemma’s wound.

There was a flurry of activity, and then they were on a quinjet, and even though he didn’t look up from Jemma, Fitz said once more, keeping his voice low, “You shouldn’t leave the Lighthouse, Deke, Jemma wouldn’t – she wouldn’t want you to put yourself at risk for her.”

“Yeah, well, someone’s gotta be there to intervene when she finds out that _you_ did,” Deke pointed out, trying to force at least an ounce levity into his tone and trying not to stare for too long at the sweat on Jemma’s forehead and the pained twist of her lips, at the blood leaking out between Fitz’s fingers.

And even though Deke was pretty sure that May overheard their exchange, given the strange, knowing way that she was peering at him when the quinjet landed as close to the local hospital as possible, he couldn’t focus on that just now.

Things went quickly from the time that they arrived at the hospital; Jemma was led away on a gurney and Fitz filled out some paperwork with fits and starts, blinking rapidly, and Deke figured that he was trying to fill in what he could with how little they could offer.

But, then abruptly, everything seemed to slow to a crawl, and they were left pacing in a plain white hallway and the lights were too bright and the whole place just smelled too _clean_ , and Deke hadn’t been this scared since his mother didn’t come home one night to tuck him in for bed.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, a woman in medical scrubs stepped out of the room that they’d taken Jemma into, pulling a cap off of her head and running a hand through her hair. She spotted Fitz and Deke on the other side of the hall, and stepped toward them, asking, “Mr. McCrae?”

Deke felt a wave of confusion at that, but Fitz just nodded and stepped forward, questioning worriedly, “How is she?”

“I’m Dr. Hopkins; I’m the surgeon that worked on your wife,” the woman explained. “She was extremely lucky – the bullet _just_ managed to miss her lung.”

Fitz breathed out a sharp breath, bending over just a bit as though he physically couldn’t take the relief. Deke himself let out a little breath, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, almost dizzy with his own relief.

“She did lose quite a bit of blood before you got her here,” Dr. Hopkins informed them, “but we gave her a transfusion.” When Deke opened his eyes, he saw the surgeon reaching out to give Fitz’s shoulder a brief squeeze, smiling warmly as she told him, “Your wife and baby are just fine, Mr. McCrae.”

“Oh thank _god_ ,” Fitz murmured, and Deke had a small smile curving his lips – but then Fitz straightened up abruptly, almost choking out, “ _Baby_?”

“ _What_?” Deke asked, his eyebrows flying up his forehead.

Dr. Hopkins was very obviously caught off-guard by their reactions, asking Fitz in surprise, “You didn’t know?”

“Um, _no_ ,” Fitz replied firmly, still very much in shock as he absently dragged a trembling hand through his hair.

“A pregnancy test is required for any woman of child-bearing age before we perform x-rays or surgery of any kind,” Dr. Hopkins explained, “it’s hospital policy.”

Fitz released a heavy breath, leaning up against the nearest wall. Deke’s gaze strayed then to the window that showed into Jemma’s room, his eyes wide as he took in his grandmother, still unconscious and now wearing a medical gown, hooked up to a heart monitor that displayed a comfortingly steady rhythm.

Knowing that right at that moment, his _mother_ was growing inside of her…it struck him breathless, and he had to reach out to steady himself against the wall as well.

-

Sometime later, Deke and Fitz were sitting in Jemma’s hospital room, perched in uncomfortable plastic chairs on either side of her bed as they waited for the to wake up, the pain meds that had kept her under while they were working on her still lingering in her system.

They were both still more than a little stunned, and Deke noticed that Fitz’s gaze was drifting down to Jemma’s stomach every few minutes, awe and disbelief obvious in his expression, though there was also a bit of fear and apprehension written there as well.

The air in the room was tense, and trying to take his mind off of how he could’ve easily lost his grandmother and his mother and any chance for a _future_ that day, Deke asked him, “Why, uh, why ‘McCrae’?”

Fitz blinked once, glancing up at Deke as though he’d forgotten that he was there. He dragged a hand over his face, letting out a small sigh before he finally explained quietly, “It’s my mum’s maiden name – it was the first thing I could think of.”

Deke nodded absently, taking that in, then he nodded to Jemma. “What’d you tell them her name was?”

Letting out a little chuckle, Fitz jerked his chin toward Jemma, saying, “Anne,” then lifted one hand to gesture to himself, “James.” When Deke tilted his head curiously, he clarified, “They’re our middle names.”

Sitting up suddenly, Deke asked in surprise, “Really?” Fitz frowned at his reaction, nodding, and Deke arched his eyebrows, blinking a couple of times and letting out a surprised laugh. “ _My_ middle name’s James too!”

Just as Fitz was gaping at him, a quiet and hoarse voice spoke up between them, “Your mum’s got good taste.” Instantly, both Deke and Fitz focused back on a now-awake Jemma, each one picking up one of her hands, and she laughed quietly. “You’re both looking at me as though I’m a ghost or something, you know.”

Fitz shot her a disbelieving look, pointing out, “Jem, you really…you scared us. Don’t _ever_ do that again, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied in a murmur, and Deke caught sight of her thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of one of his hands. It paused, though, when she happened to glance around, frowning. “Are we…are we in a _hospital_?”

“Yeah,” Deke answered, wincing slightly. “And I wish somehow had warned me about all the sick people and that _clean_ smell.”

Jemma offered him a weak smile, then turned to Fitz and whispered, “That bad?” When he released a shaking breath, nodding, she blinked, glancing down her body. “I…I felt the shot, and I knew that it hadn’t hit my heart or my aorta. I wasn’t sure about my lungs, but…well, then things got a bit fuzzy before I could properly place it.”

Silence settled between the three of them for a beat, but Deke broke it to point out, “You promised me that you’d be fine, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, a little smile ticking her lips up at the corners. “I’m sorry, Deke. But, I can’t imagine that I ever could’ve predicted that _this_ would happen.” With another blink of sudden realization, she quickly turned to look at Fitz in startled shock. “Wait, what are you – you shouldn’t be –”

Fitz shook his head, assuring her, “Daisy let me out. Well, at least, Deke talked her into it –”

“No,” Jemma cut him off, “not that; what are you doing out _here_? They have our pictures, our names – they could find us and…and put you back in _prison_ , Fitz.”

Fitz pointedly ignored the ‘I told you so’ look that Deke shot at him, scoffing and lifting her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You’re not the self-proclaimed genius I’ve always known you to be if you really think that I’d be anywhere but by your side, Jem.” Nodding his head in Deke’s direction, he added, “Tried to get him to stay, though, but he apparently felt the same way – and apparently felt that he didn’t have to listen to his elders.”

When Jemma then glanced at Deke, he simply offered her a weak smile and a shrug.

“As soon as you’re well enough to leave, we’re gonna get you back to the Lighthouse,” Fitz went on. “Daisy’s keeping an eye on the local police for us, and is gonna give us a head’s up if they catch wind of us being here.”

She breathed out a quiet breath, nodding in understanding, and Deke promised her seriously, “We’ll be with you the whole time, though, no matter what.”

Smiling warmly up at him, Jemma murmured, “Thank you, Deke.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation then, and the doctor that had taken over for Dr. Hopkins came in. She smiled at the sight of Jemma, awake and alert, greeting her, “Ah, good evening, Mrs. McCrae, I’m Dr. Walsh. How are you feeling?”

Deke noticed Jemma shooting a subtle look at Fitz, no doubt for the name, but answered the doctor without missing a beat, “I’ve been better, quite honestly.”

Dr. Walsh chuckled as she flipped through Jemma’s chart, saying absently, “I don’t know if your husband’s had a chance to tell you yet, but you and your baby are going to be just fine.”

At first, Jemma simply replied, “Oh good,” but Deke knew the exact moment that she realized what the doctor had said; she sat up straight in her bed, hissing under her breath as it likely pulled at her fresh wound, and swatted away Fitz’s hovering hands. He caught sight of Fitz wincing, just before Jemma asked sharply, “My _what_?”

Perhaps they should’ve brought that up _first_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	88. Post 5x15 - FS + Deke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "first FS+ Deke interaction after ep 15? Maybe a tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff? Thanks!!"

It had been mere minutes since Jemma had left Fitz’s isolation room, and she was already feeling worlds better now than she had been earlier that day about the future, about her and Fitz, after their conversation. They could get through this, just like they’d gotten through everything else; she was confident of it.

“Hey!”

Pausing at the end of the hall, Jemma turned to find Deke hurrying to catch up with her. An automatic smile curved her lips at the sight of him, and she moved to meet him halfway. “Hello Deke.”

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you,” Deke explained as he came to a stop. “How’d the surgery go?”

It took a moment for Jemma to remember that she and Mack had been in surgery with Elena before she’d gone to see Fitz, but then she smiled in relief and informed him, “Oh, it went quite well, thank you.”

Deke nodded, then thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the commissary, asking curiously, “Do you need anything? Do you want to go get some of that tea stuff that you’re always drinking?”

Laughing softly, Jemma shook her head and admitted, “Thank you Deke, but I just had some tea, actually – with Fitz.”

His eyebrows rose in obvious surprise, and he shot a quick glance around to make sure that no one else was in the hall with them before he gently tugged her closer to the wall. “How’d it go? Is everything okay?”

She reached out to grasp his hand with hers, and gave a little nod. “Everything…everything _will_ be okay, I’m sure of it now.” Then, lowering her voice, she told him, “He knows.”

Deke gaped at her, repeating in a harsh whisper, “He _knows_?” Nodding wordlessly in reply, Jemma released Deke’s hand in order to reach into her pocket, coming back with his tool and handing it to him. He stared at it for a moment, then asked, “Well, what did he say? He…didn’t throw up too, did he?”

Jemma gave a little laugh, rolling her eyes as she reminded him once more, “I’ve told you a dozen times now that that had nothing to do with you, and it was just unfortunate timing – and, if I remember correctly, you promised not to take it personally.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Deke agreed absently, “but…”

Chewing her bottom lip briefly, she finally answered, “Things went well. Fitz was understandably… _surprised_ –”

He cut her off there with a loud groan, dropping his head back as he asked miserably, “He thinks I’m an idiot, doesn’t he? He can’t possibly believe that _I’m_ related to you guys.”

“ _Hey_.” Gently, Jemma grasped his face between her hands, tilting his head back down and forcing him to meet her eyes as she told him seriously, “Fitz does _not_ think that you’re an idiot, Deke, stop that. He’s been having a difficult time lately, and any sort of indication that he gave on how he felt about you was directly related to the stress that he’s been under. Fitz is impressed by you – no, I _mean_ it,” she insisted when Deke rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to argue, “you said that I knew him better than he knew himself, remember? Well, I _know_ when Fitz finds someone impressive, finds them worthy of working alongside.” He still looked unsure, so she smiled softly and murmured, “Fitz is happy about this, Deke – or, he will be when he’s had time to give it some thought. I know it.”

Finally, Deke agreed quietly, “Okay,” though he still didn’t seem completely convinced.

Just then, something occurred to Jemma, and she dropped her hands from his face to his shoulders as she asked, “Do you want to go see him?”

He was obviously startled by the sudden suggestion, questioning disbelievingly, “ _Now_?”

Jemma nodded quickly, more and more sure of the idea by the moment. “It’ll be good for both of you, I’m certain of it.”

Deke looked worried now, but he ultimately agreed slowly, “I…I guess, yeah, sure.”

With that said, Jemma took his hand in hers, leading him through the halls, until they’d reached Fitz’s room. She typed the code in, pulling open the door before then leading a tentative Deke inside behind her.

Fitz had his back to them where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, facing the wall, and she noticed his shoulders rising and falling on a heavy sigh at their entrance. “It’s just me again, Fitz,” she assured him soothingly, then added, “and Deke.”

He turned to face them, looking a little caught off-guard as he scooted to the edge of the bed, standing slowly. Neither he nor Deke seemed be about to do anything other than stare at the other blankly, so Jemma gently nudged Deke in the side, nodding encouragingly.

“Um…hi,” he blurted out, glancing down at Jemma in something almost like panic, “What, uh, what’s up?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, though, he winced.

Fitz’s eyebrows rose, and he let out a short scoff, glancing at Jemma as he questioned teasingly, “Perfect, huh?”

She simply smiled fondly, giving a little shrug. Then, she nodded to the small table in the middle of the room, suggesting to Deke, “Why don’t we sit down?”

When he didn’t move, she gently led him over to sit, but as she was about to take her own seat, she glanced up to find that Fitz hadn’t moved either. She sought out his gaze, and once she was sure that she had his attention, she arched an eyebrow wordlessly.

It was only another moment before Fitz stepped forward, sitting down across from Deke and to Jemma’s left. Almost immediately, a tense silence settled between the three of them, so Jemma figured that she’d have to do a bit more to encourage this along.

With that in mind, she cleared her throat lightly to gain their attention before she told Fitz plainly, “You know, Deke is quite sure that you think he’s an idiot.”

Deke stared at her in complete disbelief, widening his eyes and hissing under his breath, “Why would you – oh my _god_ , you didn’t need to tell him that! That’s so _embarrassing_!”

“You’re not an _idiot_ ,” Fitz said, a bit reluctantly, dropping his gaze to distractedly watch his fingers drumming on the tabletop. “Just…uh, well, eager, I suppose. Nothing wrong with that, though – I mean, lord knows Jemma and I were pretty eager ourselves back before – _before._ Probably got on everyone’s nerves from time to time too, no doubt.”

“See?” Jemma told Deke, smiling brightly.

Deke groaned, sliding down a bit in his seat and covering his face with his hands. Chuckling a bit to himself, Fitz slid his hand over to gently nudge Jemma’s, joking, “Wonder if there are any parenting books ‘bout how to handle raising your adult grandson with no prior experience.”

“Yes, I’m sure they’d be quite helpful,” Jemma went along with the joke, “‘Chapter One: How to _Not_ be Embarrassing’.”

“Just so you know, all of _this_ ,” Deke started, waving a hand at them, “is _completely_ embarrassing.”

“Noted,” Fitz replied, the beginnings of a tiny grin playing at the edges of his lips, and it had Jemma’s heart filling with warmth and affection in her chest. With his hand still close to hers, their fingers just barely touching, she had to just shift hers slightly in order to rest on top of his. He glanced over at her, but didn’t comment on it, and when he turned his hand over to properly hold hers, she had to bite back a relieved smile.

Shifting a bit in his chair, Deke rested his hands on the table in front of him, absently beginning to drum his fingers in the same way that Fitz had been a few minutes ago. “So, um…you’re okay then? With…me, I mean? Being…”

“My grandson?” Fitz finished for him, arching an eyebrow. When Deke nodded, not quite meeting his eyes, he answered with a shrug, “Could be worse, I guess.”

“Ugh, _Fitz_!” Jemma groaned in disbelief, using their joined hands to give him a reprimanding little smack to the chest. “Be serious, will you?”

Fitz held up his free hand in surrender. “Fine, fine. ‘Course I’m okay with it. It’s…it’s strange, to be sure. Even after everything we’ve been through, this is still a little…out there for us, and it’s gonna take some adjusting to, but…” He gave a little shrug, clearly uncomfortable as he then moved to rub at the back of his neck, dropping his own gaze. “But I’m willing to. Adjust, I mean.”

There was a beat of silence, then Deke quickly cleared his throat and nodded, mumbling, “Okay. Okay, good. Thanks.”

Glancing between her husband and grandson, who were mirror images of each other, both hunched over awkwardly and staring down at the table, refusing to meet the other’s gaze, Jemma gave a fond roll of her eyes. Fitz was right; they would all definitely need a period of adjustment, especially with everything else that was going on around them at the moment. But, the three of them, they were family, and even now she could already see that everything would be alright with time.

Squeezing Fitz’s hand lightly and reaching out to soothingly rub her free hand over Deke’s arm, Jemma felt a rush of absolute love for them.

Yes, they were going to be _just_ fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	89. 5x16 Missing Scene - Jemma and Elena Brotp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Spoilers for 5x16!!
> 
> Written for the prompt: "Could I please request some Jemma and YoYo brotp please?" 
> 
> *Set right after the first Jemma/Fitz/Elena scene in the ep

“No, he’ll try,” Jemma tells Elena with a satisfied little smile that very clearly states that she already has a plan. But, without elaborating any further, she then turns on her heel and wordlessly strides away.

Elena arches her eyebrows, shooting a quick glance back over her shoulder at Fitz, who is still standing by the window in his cell and watching his wife’s retreat, before hurrying to follow her. “You have a plan?” she asks as she catches up with her.

“Yes,” Jemma answers simply, and for a moment, Elena thinks that’s all that she’s going to say. But, then she stops suddenly, shooting a quick glance at the empty hallway around them before turning to their right and opening a door, gesturing Elena inside.

Elena recognizes it as the lab of the Lighthouse, where Mack has spent quite a bit of time lately working on getting her new arms in working order. As Jemma closes the door behind them, she turns to face her, waiting for whatever it is that Jemma’s got up her sleeve. If she knows her as well as she thinks she does, it’ll be foolproof.

“We’re going to give Mack one last chance to change his mind, to see reason,” Jemma starts, brushing past Elena to approach one of the lab benches. “But, if he doesn’t agree, as I’m quite sure he won’t, I’m just going to have to prove my own invincibility.” With that, she picks up a beaker from the bench, holding it up, as though it’s supposed to explain everything. “And to do that, I’m going to play a roulette, of sorts.”

She then glances back at Elena, who doesn’t have a clue what ‘roulette’ means, nor does she understand how playing a game is supposed to solve all their problems. So, she shrugs widely and shakes her head, making it clear that Jemma needs to clarify a bit more.

Jemma nods in understanding, blowing out a quiet breath. She thinks for a moment, then gestures to the beaker still in her hand. “If I take four of these, and fill three with water and the fourth with the fluid used in your arms – which would kill me if ingested, of course – and blindly drink three of them, science states that I will only choose the ones with water.” A smirk crosses her lips as she adds, “But, if I pretend that the third one _isn’t_ water, Mack will have to let Fitz out in order to save my life.”

For a lengthy moment, all Elena can do is gape at Jemma in horror and disbelief, thinking to herself that she can’t possibly be _serious_ , can she? Sure, she believes that she can’t die too, but she isn’t about to go out of her way to tempt fate!

“ _Jemma_ ,” Elena finally manages to get out, hissing her name in disbelief as she takes a step toward her, “are you _insane_?”

“Of course not,” Jemma replies, sounding perfectly calm and at ease, as though she hasn’t just suggested a plan where she could possibly digest a lethal acid. “The science is sound, Yo-Yo. Until we’ve successfully broken the loop, nothing can happen to me – I have to be alive to give birth to my daughter, who will then give birth to Deke. It makes perfect sense. I know what I’m doing.”

She is so adamant, so completely confident in her words, that Elena considers it all for a moment, trying to find a flaw in her logic, some detail that Jemma herself hadn’t already thought of.

“I don’t know about science,” she starts slowly, and Jemma’s face falls, just slightly, though the determination is still clear and burning in her eyes, “but I trust you, Jemma. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

In an instant, a brilliant, relieved smile curves Jemma’s lips and she nods quickly, gratefully. “Thank you.”

Elena offers a smile in return, waving off her thanks, instead pointing out, “As soon as Mack realizes that you’re okay, he’ll try to get Fitz back in his cell.”

Jemma frowns a bit, nodding as she chews her bottom lip. “Yes, I’d thought about that. We might have to make a run for it.”

Shaking her head, Elena assures her, “We won’t; not if I can get Mack into the cell instead.”

Jemma’s eyes light up, and her smile is back immediately, clearly the thought of a fully-formed plan exciting her. “That’s brilliant! Alright, we should get everything set up as soon as possible, so that we can get out of here and start checking out those bases.”

“Should we tell Fitz what we’re going to do?” Elena asks curiously as Jemma hands her three of the beakers to fill with water from the nearby sink.

She hesitates, still holding the last beaker as she mulls it over, but ultimately shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I love Fitz, truly, but…he may not be able to sell it if he knows that I’m not actually in danger. I’ll apologize to him later, but we need his real emotion to convince Mack.”

Though Elena feels a twist of guilt knowing how much it’ll hurt Fitz, she nods in understanding and doesn’t argue, because Jemma is right. And, besides, they’re doing all of this for the greater good, to save the planet and the people they love; that is what matters in the end.

As she turns on the faucet of the sink and sets to filling the beakers with the exact amount of water that Jemma had instructed, she can’t quite stop herself from asking, “What is it like?” When Jemma hums curiously, prompting her for further elaboration on the question, Elena keeps her gaze firmly fixed on what she’s doing as she tries again, “What is it like to know…that you’ll get to spend so much time with the man that you love? To know that you will have a family together, have a daughter together?”

At first, there is no answer from Jemma, and Elena feels incredibly vulnerable, afraid that she has said too much, opened herself up to too much emotion when there’s still so much work to be done.

But, then she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, and turns in surprise to find that Jemma is now standing beside her, a warm and understanding smile on her face. “I promise you, everything that we’re doing now is to make sure that you have a chance at a similar future with Mack. We’re doing this to make sure that what we saw in the future never happens.”

Jemma’s assurances bring Elena some comfort, but then she thinks of _what_ they’re doing now, and how it’ll no doubt hurt Mack. A bit sadly, she points out, “He’ll be upset with me for this.”

“But, he loves you,” Jemma reminds her, her tone firm and leaving no room for doubt, “and he will forgive you, even if it takes some time.” She pauses, then continues, “We all go to extreme lengths from time to time to save each other; lord knows Fitz and I have done it enough times. And though I absolutely can’t stand it when Fitz puts himself in danger for me, I _understand_ , because I do the same thing for him – I’m even doing it right now, to a certain extent.” A soft, thoughtful little smile flits across her lips as she finishes, “It’s simply what love inspires in you. Sometimes, you have no idea of the lengths to which you will go to save someone you love until you’re there, until it’s already happening. It can be a bit scary, a bit overwhelming, and of course, dangerous, but as long as they’re going to be okay, to be safe, it’s all worth it. At least, in my opinion.”

For a moment, Elena is absolutely floored by Jemma’s impromptu speech. She doesn’t think that anyone has ever quite understood her emotions, her indescribable and all-consuming love for Mack, her willingness to protect him and keep him safe at all costs, quite so completely.

However, she should’ve known that out of anyone in the world, it would be Jemma, who has a time-and-space-crossing, unbreakable and invincible love with Fitz, that would understand.

It makes Elena feel better about what they’re planning to do, about how she’s going to have to hurt Mack in order to help him. If Jemma and Fitz can survive everything that they’ve been through and still be together, to be married and to be someday starting a family together, then she and Mack can get through this.

She knows it, because Fitzsimmons are proof that it is possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	90. 5x16 Missing Scene (ish) - Fitzsimmons Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by @simmppaa on tumblr: "If you are taking prompts could you write a fic where Fitz is a little mad (and concerned) to Jemma after her stunt". 
> 
> Major Spoilers for 5x16!!

Their quinjet had been in the air for a little bit now, and they were well on their way to the first of the bases that Malick had turned over to SHIELD to search for the weapon Hale was after. But, despite the amount of time that had passed, it hadn’t dulled the emotion that was still pounding through Fitz’s body.

All that he could see in his mind’s eye was a constant loop of the memory of watching Jemma writhing and screaming in pain on the ground, thinking that she was dying right before his eyes and being unable to do anything to stop it.

She and Elena were conversing about something at the moment, sitting next to each other on the seats at the opposite side of the quinjet to Fitz. They were possibly making some kind of small talk (or, his mind filled in darkly, hatching another potentially life-threatening plan), but he was drowning all of it out.

That was, until he heard, “ _Fitz_.”

Blinking a couple of times, he glanced up at them, and he could tell simply from Jemma’s expression that she’d already said his name quite a few times in her attempt to get his attention – and that she was both irked by his lack of reply and concerned about it.

Elena glanced between them, then stood up quickly, awkwardly thumbing over her shoulder to the cockpit. “I’m…um…going to sit up there for a bit.”

Jemma waited until Elena had taken her seat in the cockpit and was out of earshot before she stood herself, crossing the small space of the quinjet to perch on the seat beside Fitz instead. She was quiet a beat, then asked, “What is it, Fitz?”

He looked up at her incredulously, arching his eyebrows and letting out a short, humorless laugh. “What is – _oh_ , I dunno, maybe I’m still reeling a bit from what I thought was the sight of my wife dying right in front of my bloody eyes.”

There was another beat, then she questioned, a lick of disbelief in her tone, “Are you upset with me?”

Fitz held his hands out widely and gaped at her wordlessly, unable to believe that she was being so blasé about all of this. Sure, it was _Jemma_ , and it was perfectly like her to dive head-on into a theory once she was sure of it, but experimenting with her own _life_? That was pushing it, even for her!

It scared him to death, wondering what else she might do while believing that they couldn’t die until they “broke the loop” (which he still didn’t think was possible, but that was a whole other issue). He couldn’t lose her, not now, not _ever_ , and especially not because she was somehow convinced of their own invincibility.

So yes, he was upset; he was also frustrated, and he was also tired of something always going wrong and the world always ending around them and always having to worry every single day about her getting hurt somehow.

Jemma was eyeing him impatiently, clearly waiting for an answer, and he noted that her eyebrows were now arched – she meant _business_.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Fitz leant forward to rest his elbows on his knees, burying his face in hands. It made his next words come out muffled as he reminded her, “An hour ago, you performed an experiment with a seventy-five percent chance of you ingesting a lethal amount of _acid_ , Jemma.”

She huffed in something like affront, and he didn’t even have to look at her to know that she was crossing her arms over her chest. “And an hour ago, I told _you_ that the science was sound.”

He groaned into his hands, giving a jerky shake of his head before lifting it and turning to look at her, narrowing his eyes. “Jesus _Christ_ Jemma, I don’t care how sound the science was; this is your _life_ you’re talking about.” He noticed her eyes narrowing slightly as well, noticed the way that she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, and with a sigh, he sat back once more and began anxiously bouncing his leg up and down. Keeping his voice low, he pointed out, “If you’re mad at me ‘bout something, you can just _tell_ me instead of y’know…punishing me by making me think you’re dying, or something.”

“I was _not_ punishing you,” she insisted immediately. There was a moment of hesitation, then she added softly, “Am I upset that you…didn’t tell me about –” taking a breath, she then finished in a rush, “the Doctor? Yes, of course. We’ve spent so much time over the past couple of years trying to figure out how to keep communicating and not let things like this come between us, how to be open and honest with each other, and now we’re…we’re _married_ , Fitz. We’re supposed to trust each other, rely on each other when we need to, and…you didn’t. And as a result, things got so bad that…” She trailed off, blowing out a harsh breath and giving a tight little shake of her head. When she blinked, he could see a tear roll down her cheek before she quickly brushed it away. “If you had just _talked_ to me, come to me, trusted me –”

“I trust you, you know I do,” Fitz cut in to remind her.

He’d been waiting for this emotional outburst ever since his split where the Doctor took over; he’d been waiting for her to tell him how she _really_ felt about it – he’d just never quite pictured it like _this_ , though. And, he really just wished that it hadn’t taken her experimenting with her own life to get there.

“And I…wanted to tell you, I did,” he went on, “but…something always held me back. Sometimes I told myself that I didn’t want to burden you with just one more thing, sometimes I was afraid that I’d scare you or push you away, sometimes…sometimes I just told myself that I was waiting for the right time. They were all excuses, I know that now. I think…that I knew if I told you –”

“I’d have stopped you,” Jemma finished, releasing a shaking breath.

“Yeah,” Fitz answered on a heavy sigh.

She nodded shortly in response, as though she’d expected as much.

He could also tell, though, that she was blaming herself, taking on the guilt of what he’d done, just like she always did, just like with everything else. He absolutely refused to let it happen this time, though.

“Hey,” he started, trying to catch her gaze, but to no avail, “it’s not your fault, okay? This is all on me.”

Jemma shook her head, finally turning to him, and he could see the hurt and the sadness and the guilt written plainly in her eyes, making his heart constrict in his chest. “I should’ve noticed that something wasn’t right, Fitz! I’m your best friend, I’m your _wife_ , I should’ve – but I wrote off all the signs as stress and a lack of sleep and –”

“Because I was _trying_ to hide it from you, from everyone!”

“It doesn’t matter! I’m supposed to know you better than _anyone_! And because I didn’t, people got hurt and –”

“That is _not_ your fault,” he argued, his tone firm as he held up his hands, putting an immediate stop to that thought. “You don’t get to take responsibility for that, Jemma. You were just as much a…a victim as anyone else.”

Just then, remembering the sight of that gun pointed at her, all because of _him_ , had his hands shaking slightly in his lap. Was there anyone he _hadn’t_ hurt that day?

He’d been trying his best to block out the memories, but thinking about them now had them resurfacing with a vengeance, and his disgust with the darkness that was living inside of him and how it had caused him to inflict so much pain on the people that he loved made his stomach churn.

Keeping his voice low, Fitz told her, “You shouldn’t be worrying about how this could somehow be your fault – you should be worrying about what it _means_.”

At first, there was only silence in response, save for the quiet sound of her failed attempts to hide the way that she was sniffling. Finally, though, Jemma asked, “And what does it mean, Fitz?”

He let out a shuddering sigh, but he just couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words, so he talked around them, muttering, “Look, I just…I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? And…yeah, okay, maybe the last time we lived all of this, things were different. I dunno, maybe…maybe I told you about the Doctor, or maybe a bomb never exploded next to a bunch of monoliths and created that fear rift so none of this ever happened. Maybe then we were okay, and you could trust me, and we…and Deke’s mum was born, but –”

“What are you saying?” she cut in, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“All I’m saying is…you think we’re supposedly invincible because we have to live to have a daughter, but…”

“I thought you believed that we couldn’t change anything,” Jemma reminded him, her voice rising slightly, and she really sounded upset now.

“I meant about stopping the planet from blowing up,” he pointed out. “That’s what all of this is leading to, what it’s always led to. It doesn’t matter what we change, and I’m sure we’ve probably changed things before, hoping for a different outcome every time, but it’s always the same and –” That time, he cut himself off, breathing out harshly. “But, that’s not the point. I just want you to…be more careful, because us having a daughter in a previous loop doesn’t mean it’ll happen this time, okay?”

She stood up abruptly, and his gaze automatically followed her. From the expression on her face, Fitz could now confirm that Jemma was indeed upset – _very_ upset.

Before she could say anything, though, he hastily added, “Jemma, I’m just trying to save you from having to – you deserve more than _this_ , and after everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve your forgiveness – _anyone’s_ forgiveness, actually – let alone deserve _you_.”

Jemma gave a teary, humorless laugh, rolling her eyes and shaking her head fiercely. “This is just like you, isn’t it? You always make these _sacrifices_ , deciding for me whether or not I can live without you, about what I do or don’t _deserve_. My god, Fitz, I _married_ you, didn’t I? That’s not just some small thing; it means that I’ve tied my life to yours, _for better or worse_. Remember?”

He wanted to point out that they didn’t actually _say_ those words at any point during their wedding, but he was wise enough to know that now was _not_ the time. “Yeah, but you didn’t have all the information then –”

“I certainly had enough!” She blew out a breath, her gaze flicking upward as she blinked rapidly a couple of times. When she’d seemingly gotten her emotions under control, she reminded him softly, “Fitz, after _everything_ we’ve been through… Yes, things are…complicated now, and maybe I was – was a bit upset, a bit hurt, but what I did wasn’t some sort of punishment. I am truly convinced that my hypothesis is correct, and I knew that I was going to be alright. I’m sorry that I didn’t warn you, but…” She moved to sit back down beside him, cautiously reaching out to take his hands in hers, as though she was afraid that he wasn’t going to let her. “I know that we can get through this, just like we have gotten through everything else before this. We just need to trust each other, count on each other, and work together.” A little smile flitted across her lips as she finished, “That’s how we work best, isn’t it?”

Fitz still wasn’t completely convinced that it would be so simple, so easy, nor was he at all convinced of her invincibility theory or her belief that they could break the loop and stop the planet from cracking apart. But, he would _always_ believe in Jemma; that was something that would never and could never change.

And, well, as long as he stuck by her side and did his best to help her try to stop the world’s oncoming destruction, he could keep an eye on her and put a stop to anymore needlessly risky experiments before they could begin.

So, Fitz offered her a half-smile, absently stroking his thumb over her ring, the feel of the metal beneath his skin soothing him just a bit. “Yeah,” he replied simply, “it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	91. Jemma + Daisy - 5x14 - 5x17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "platonic skimmons talking after fitz's actions. figuring it out. forgiving each other"; requested by @queensimmons: "Hey could you write a thing that’s more so Daisy and Jemma friendship centric where Daisy is still resistant to talk to Jemma or they have issues or something because of the thing with Fitz but Jemma starts panicking or freaking out about something whether it’s being pregnant or a mission or whatever you want and Daisy comforts her" and "in light of that quick conversation with Jemma and Daisy at the beginning about Fitz...I’m asking if you could write a thing about the first conversation she and Daisy had and Daisy holds no sort of resentment or hostility towards her ?"
> 
> Spoilers for 5x17!!
> 
> Set during 5x14, pre-5x16, and post 5x17

A night had passed since Fitz’s split, since Daisy’s powers had been so forcefully returned to her, and since the fear rift had been properly closed for good. Jemma had spent the night tossing and turning, her brain practically overloaded with everything that had happened in such a short space of time.

She was, of course, afraid for her husband, afraid that he was losing himself, had been slowly slipping away for weeks now and she hadn’t noticed, afraid that there was nothing she could do to help him. Then, there was that pesky little revelation of Deke’s, where he’d told her that he was their _grandson_ , that a daughter they didn’t even have yet was going to be his mother, and that he knew everything was going to be okay between them because of this.

But, what she kept coming back to was Daisy. She couldn’t close her eyes without remembering the anguish on her best friend’s face as her husband torn the inhibitor from her neck, as her powers were restored against her will and the walls around them shook with her pain.

Jemma had, rather desperately, wanted to talk to her, to try and do what she could to comfort her in some small way, or at least to be there for her as she struggled to readjust to something that she hadn’t wanted returned to her in the first place.

However, she ultimately decided to give her distance, to give Daisy a bit of space. After all, the very last thing that she wanted was to make things somehow _worse_ for her, and Jemma had no idea if Daisy’s (rightful) anger with Fitz extended toward her. He was _her_ husband, and well, Daisy had always made those silly (but rather accurate, to be honest) jokes about them practically being the same person – or, “psychically linked”, as she used to say.

So, though Jemma wanted to be there for Daisy, she made the difficult decision to wait it out just a bit, to try and get a feel for whether her presence would be welcome or not.

The very next morning, though, as a bleary-eyed Jemma shuffled into the commissary, not having gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep the night before, she was startled into full alertness when she noticed Daisy sitting at the table and picking at a piece of dry toast.

Jemma blinked a couple of times, eyeing the tea kettle that she’d been headed toward and Daisy for a moment, considering just leaving and giving Daisy her solitude before coming back later.

“You can stay, you know,” Daisy spoke up then, giving Jemma another scare. Her voice was low and raspy, as though she hadn’t spoken much since the day before. Or, perhaps, it was from the screams that had been torn from her throat so violently. “I know that you’d probably like, die or something without your tea.”

Jemma gave a slightly unsure laugh at the obvious joke, hesitating only another moment before she went to the kettle and set to making her tea. “I wouldn’t ‘die’ – I’d just have a rather difficult time functioning, is all.”

“Is that all?” When Jemma glanced up, she noted that Daisy’s gaze was still firmly locked on her plate, though she had yet to take a single bite of her toast.

A slightly tense silence descended between them as Jemma prepared her tea, and when she finished with it, she briefly contemplated just taking it and leaving the room, leaving the silence and the distance and the emotions lying thick and heavy in her throat. But, after a moment, she came to the ultimate conclusion that Daisy couldn’t really be holding anything against her if she was speaking so casually to her.

So, she took her cup of tea and perched on the seat across from her, taking a couple of sips to steady her nerves. “Daisy…” she said finally, though she still wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say even as she addressed her.

“I don’t blame _you_ , Jemma,” Daisy told her before she could figure it out, the words coming out on a heavy sigh.

In a way, the admission gave her some relief. In another way, however, it only had the guilt inside of her growing stronger. “Shouldn’t you, though?” When Daisy glanced up at her sharply, revealing the red rimming her puffy eyes, Jemma shook her head angrily and pointed out, “I should’ve realized something was wrong with him. I should’ve _noticed_ … He wasn’t sleeping, he was barely eating, he was under so much stress – I should’ve _known_ it would cause his injury to act up in some way, or –”

“That’s not on you,” Daisy interrupted, giving a little shake of her head. “Simmons, you’re his wife, not his keeper. If something was going on with Fitz, it was his responsibility to tell someone about it, to get help before…” She trailed off, letting out a shuddering breath.

Jemma gave another, tense shake of her head, wrapping her hands tightly around the heated ceramic of her cup. “You don’t understand, Daisy, this is just as much my fault as anyone else’s – I’m supposed to know him better than anyone. I’ve _always_ been able to tell when something was wrong, when he was sick, when he was upset, when he was hiding something because he didn’t want to burden anyone with it. I saw all the signs, but…but I ignored them. I am so _sorry_ , Daisy.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” she murmured, sniffling a bit and dropping her eyes back to her untouched toast.

“Daisy –”

“You _don’t_.” This time, Daisy’s words were firm, and she raised her eyes back to Jemma’s, narrowing them so that she could convey how much she meant it. “You…you did what you could to put a stop to it, to help me, and…and well, it’s not like you didn’t get hurt too.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Jemma insisted immediately, reaching out to place her hand over Daisy’s nearest one, and she could feel it shaking, just subtly, beneath hers. Trying to stop the trembling, she curled her fingers more tightly around Daisy’s.

Daisy gave a short little shrug, agreeing softly, “Yeah, you’re right, it’s not. But…but even though I’m so – _angry_ with Fitz, even though I’m pissed off and…” She blew out a breath, briefly closing her eyes, before finishing, “Despite all that, I haven’t forgotten that he’s…your husband, and you love him, and…what happened yesterday hurt you. In a different way, yeah, but…but it’s not any less important.”

Jemma wanted to argue that she thought it very much was less important than what Daisy had gone through, but what she needed then wasn’t be argued with, so she let it go. Instead, she gave Daisy’s hand a brief squeeze and whispered, “Let me apologize anyway, please. I…I have to, Daisy. I feel –”

“Guilty?” Daisy finished, the ghost of a knowing smile passing across her lips. “Yeah, I mean, you wouldn’t be _you_ if you didn’t feel guilty about this.” Briefly, she dropped her gaze to absently watch as the fingers of her free hand tapped along the edge of her plate, but then she lifted her head and met Jemma’s eyes once more. “I forgive you, Jemma. Even if I – I don’t think there’s anything to forgive, you need to hear it, so…”

“Thank you,” she murmured, giving Daisy’s hand another small, grateful squeeze. “Daisy…even though I will never abandon Fitz, even though I will always be by his side, just…remember that I’m always here for you as well. What happened…it doesn’t change that. Whatever you need from me, you have it.”

This time, the tiny smile quirking the corners of her lips remained, and she nodded as she once more lowered her eyes, idly crushing the hard crust of her toast between her thumb and forefinger. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jemma said softly, releasing Daisy’s hand in favor of standing from her seat, rounding the end of the table and stepping up beside her. She wrapped her arms around Daisy’s shoulders, embracing her tightly, and it was only a moment before the hug was returned, Daisy’s arms snaking around her waist as she buried her face in Jemma’s shoulder.

Even though things were going to be rough for awhile, even though Jemma would no doubt feel guilty, and feel torn between her best friend and her husband at times, she had the feeling that it could eventually get better – as long as she was there to support them both through it. As of that moment, that was what mattered the most.

-

A handful of days later, Jemma was still riding the wave of confidence that came with the realization that she and Fitz were invincible as she left Fitz’s cell (and left Fitz to continue attempting to come to terms with the fact that Deke was their grandson), now in search of Daisy instead.

Fortunately, she found her rather quickly, in the first place that she’d thought to check: the control center. She passed May leaving the room as she entered it, the downward tilt of her lips indicating that she was unhappy about something.

Jemma paused, glancing after her and briefly considered following her to ask if what was wrong, and if there was anything that she could do to help. But, then Daisy called, “Simmons?” and Jemma brushed it off for the moment, climbing up the steps to join Daisy in front of the bank of computers.

“Hello Daisy,” she greeted, idly glancing up at the largest screen, where she was doing a search on the few SHIELD bases and safehouses that were still secure.

“Come to have a talk with me about quaking your husband into the wall?” Daisy asked, briefly turning to glance at Jemma, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’m not apologizing.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to,” Jemma answered honestly, clasping her hands in front of her, wringing them together anxiously.

Daisy was clearly caught off-guard by that, finishing with her search and finally turning fully from the keyboard, resting one hand on her hip. “Alright, I’ll bite; what is it, then?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Fitz’s idea, about the weapon that he thinks Hale is creating,” she explained. She and Fitz had talked about it after she’d given the revelation about Deke, when she’d finally thought to ask what exactly May and Daisy had been after when they’d gone to see him earlier that day. She happened to agree with him that it was a good lead, and something definitely worth looking into; she just hoped that Daisy would be more apt to listen to her than Fitz.

Daisy’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she sighed quietly. “Look, it’s a…a good idea, I guess, but – well, it’s just not solid enough, okay? We have a more solid lead –”

“Which is?” Jemma asked, her eyebrows darting up in surprise; Fitz hadn’t mentioned _that_ part.

In response, Daisy nodded her head in the direction of the computer screen beside them, and Jemma turned to look up at it, her eyes widening as she scanned the information on it. “You’re – you’re taking Robin and her mother out of hiding? Whatever for?”

“Because Robin knows things that we don’t, Jemma, and we _need_ that right now to find Coulson. Everything else is a dead end, and…and we need _something_ , okay? She has what we need, I’m sure of it.”

Chewing her bottom lip worriedly, Jemma reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, pointing out uncertainly, “Yes, I suppose, but…is it really wise to put Polly and Robin in danger? To bring them back into the middle of all of this?”

“Yes, it is,” Daisy answered confidently. “And…look, if Polly doesn’t agree, and doesn’t think it’s for the best…well, then it isn’t. But, it’s worth a shot, right?”

Jemma wasn’t quite sure that she agreed, but she still gave a slight nod before pointing out, “Fitz suggested searching for the weapon in one of the HYDRA bases that Malick turned over – what if Hale has Coulson hidden there as well? It might be a faster route than waiting to see if one of Robin’s drawings leads you to him.”

Daisy released another sigh, slowly shaking her head as she stepped forward, resting a hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “ _This_ is the right thing to do, okay? I just know it. Robin’s going to lead us to Coulson, and then…he’ll figure the rest out.”

Knowing that Daisy was feeling out of her depth suddenly being thrust into leading the team, and knowing that she was still out of sorts and emotional after what had happened to her, Jemma couldn’t fault her for being desperate to find Coulson, even putting their ultimate goal of stopping the world from ending on hold to do so.

However, Jemma didn’t necessarily _agree_ with her decision, even if she understood the reasoning behind it. “When are you heading out, then?”

“First thing in the morning, I guess,” Daisy replied, stepping back from Jemma and turning to type on the keyboard once more. “I’ll send a notice to Polly now; let her know that we’ll be there tomorrow.”

Nodding to herself, Jemma absorbed the information for a moment, calculating that she had at least twelve hours to try and change Daisy’s mind, to get her to look past her anger with Fitz to understand that his lead was actually more solid than Robin would be.

What she had told Fitz the other day was true, they were going to have to make harder choices this time around, and perhaps that meant ignoring their impulses that were guided by emotion, looking past them to the more practical options, and that was something that she’d have to try and get Daisy to see as well.

However, it did _not_ mean that she wasn’t going to do everything that she could to actually talk to Daisy about it, to not go behind her back and cause her anymore hurt. If she could avoid that, she absolutely would.

But, that didn’t mean that Jemma wasn’t _willing_ to do so – she was just hoping that she wasn’t going to have to.

-

When Jemma and Fitz finally returned to the Lighthouse after their cleverly planned escape with Elena (and after their intended mission went up in figurative flames), it was to find that the base had obviously been attacked in their absence, proving that they weren’t the only ones that had had a horrible couple of days.

Jemma was relieved to find that Coulson was, in fact, back with them; though, she was a bit worried when he almost immediately requested to speak with Fitz in private, leaving Jemma standing out in the hall waiting on them, hands wringing together anxiously.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Surprised, Jemma righted herself from where she’d been leaning back against the wall, turning to find Daisy striding toward her, brow furrowed angrily. “Daisy, I –”

“You broke Fitz out of his cell, you tricked Mack and made him think you were _dying_ – and not to mention that you really could have _actually_ died – and then you stole a quinjet and went off to fight HYDRA by yourselves!” Daisy threw up her hands in clear disbelief and upset, then crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head tightly. “I thought…I thought we were okay, you said you were here for me too, but…but then you just went behind my back and…”

“I know,” Jemma agreed, “but I wasn’t lying about – I still _am_ here for you, Daisy, I just…I knew that we needed to find this weapon and stop Hale from using it. You were so dead-set on finding Coulson –”

“You should’ve come to me, talked to me –”

“I _did_ ,” she reminded her, “twice, actually.”

Daisy narrowed her eyes, letting out a harsh breath and planting her hands on her hips. She was quiet a moment, then asked, “Did you even find it?”

Releasing a sigh of her own, Jemma lifted one slightly shaking hand to drag tiredly over her face. “Yes, we did. But… _oh_ , things went downhill far quicker than I could’ve imagined. Elena wasn’t ready for missions with her new arms yet, Fitz and I nearly _died_ , then Hale’s daughter and von Strucker…” She trailed off there, shaking her head in frustration. “Not to mention whatever happened here! I mean, my science was supposed to be _sound_ , Fitz and I were supposed to be invincible until we broke the loop, but I took it too far, and –”

“ _Wait_ ,” Daisy cut in, shaking her head and holding up her hands to stop Jemma from continuing. “How the hell did you come to _that_ conclusion?”

Taking a deep breath, Jemma briefly eyed the door to the room Fitz and Coulson had retreated into some time ago now. When she decided that it really couldn’t hurt, and that she likely owed Daisy the truth, she took a half-step closer to her, lowering her voice. “Because of Deke.”

Daisy’s brow furrowed, and it was clear that she’d been expecting anything but that. “Um…what?”

“Deke…as long as Deke exists in previous loops, that means that Fitz and I survive long enough to make it to the Lighthouse, and survive long enough to give birth to his mother,” Jemma explained, letting out a rush of breath before going on, “So I knew that we would be alright, that nothing could change that and we couldn’t die – at least, not until we broke the loop.”

Utterly stunned, Daisy blinked a couple of times, slowly shaking her head. “I…”

Not giving her much time to sort out her thoughts, now that Jemma had started, she couldn’t quite stop herself from admitting a bit tearfully, “I think I went too far, Daisy, put too much into this. We might’ve done exactly the same thing that we did in previous loops, we might’ve contributed to the end of the world anyway, and for – for _nothing_.”

“Whoa, Simmons, slow down!” Daisy closed the remaining space between them, hesitating before reaching out to place a hand on Jemma’s arm. “We still have no idea how things unfold, or how the world ended. I mean, yeah, everyone thought it was me, but –”

“But we all know you’re not powerful enough to crack the planet apart,” Jemma filled in, nodding even as she brushed at a stray tear on her cheek. “No offense.”

“None taken. But, see, we don’t know anything about it. Maybe what you guys did helped, even if you went about it in _totally_ the wrong way –” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “But, that’s not important. I…I think you guys made a, well, a stupid choice, but ultimately, probably a good one in going to that HYDRA base. If you hadn’t been there, who knows what Hale’s kid and von Strucker could’ve gotten up to?”

Jemma knew how difficult it was for Daisy to say that, given how clearly hurt and upset she was about them going behind her back and breaking Fitz out, striking out on their own to take Hale’s weapon out of play. Offering her a small, slightly teary smile, she nodded, murmuring, “You’re right. Thank you, Daisy.”

Daisy gave a little smile of her own in response, giving her arm a tiny squeeze. “Sure.” She was silent a moment, then out of the blue, asked, “So, you’re not…you’re not kidding or anything? Deke’s really like…your _grandson_?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Jemma nodded. “Yes, he is.”

Her eyebrows rising, she gave a short shake of her head. “I just can’t…I can’t believe it. He can be so _stupid_ sometimes, you know. Like, how is he possibly a Fitzsimmons? Are you sure he’s not adopted or something?”

“He’s actually quite smart, you know,” Jemma pointed out with a tiny huff, coming immediately to her grandson’s defense.

Daisy arched a disbelieving brow at that. “Yeah, sure; you’re his grandma, you have to say that.” There was another beat of silence, then she said softly, “We’re going to figure this all out, okay? We’re going to find some way to stop the world from ending. But…but we have to work _together_ on it, okay? No more faking our deaths or something in order to go out on our own.”

Jemma reached up to catch Daisy’s hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze, a smile curving her lips as she replied firmly, “Agreed.”

This time, they truly were on the same side (where they were going to _stay_ ), and they were working toward the same end goal. Like Daisy said, they were going to figure it out together; they were going to break the loop, once and for all this time – just as long as they worked together.

And Jemma had absolutely no problems with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	92. Post 5x17 - FS and Deke/Deke Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompts: "I was wondering if I could request a prompt with FS + Deke? Like something with Fitzsimmons being protective grandparents or something like that and Deke + everyone else just being so shocked about it??" and "I was just wondering if, when you have a chance, you could write something about Daisy finding out about the (possible) Fitzsimmons baby?"; @queensimmons requested: "Fitzsimmons + losing their shit when they get back to find their trashcan of a grandson hurt fluff angst bonus if there’s some sort or mention of deke + crushing on his great aunt i am living"; @dragonrider415 requested: "I was wondering if you could write a story about the team finding out about Deke?"
> 
> *Set post 5x17

As Daisy, Coulson, Mack, and May addressed Jemma, Fitz, and Elena about the stunt they pulled by leaving the Lighthouse without clearance as soon as they’d returned to the base and proved to be unharmed, Jemma felt properly reprimanded. She did truly feel bad about having to trick Mack, and to go against Daisy’s orders, and, to boot, their actions at the HYDRA base may have simply contributed further to the planet’s ultimate destruction rather than stopping it, so she took it all without comment, simply nodding along.

“And drinking _acid_ ,” Coulson added then, shaking his head at Jemma and planting his hands on his hips. “What were you _thinking_ , Simmons?”

“Technically, I didn’t drink the acid,” Jemma couldn’t help but point out, “that was sort of the point.” Her voice grew quieter and quieter, however, when Coulson leveled an unamused look at her.

“And then taking on a HYDRA base on your own,” Mack put in, though his disappointment seemed to be directed more toward Elena than Jemma or Fitz. “What were you thinking?”

Elena opened her mouth, no doubt to shoot something back at him about thinking that she was at least doing _something_ , but before she could get a word out, a cry sounded from the other side of the Lighthouse’s control center.

“Hey! You guys are back!”

Jemma felt a wave of relief at the sound of Deke’s voice, as well a bit of excitement at seeing him again – when they’d nearly died in England (several times, truthfully), she’d been afraid that she’d never get the chance to see their grandson again.

As Deke climbed the steps to join them, she turned to greet him, but froze automatically when her gaze landed on the sling encasing his right arm. Her eyebrows darted up her forehead, and she asked worriedly, “What happened?” Turning back to the others, she said, almost accusatorily in her rapidly growing concern for Deke, “You didn’t mention that Deke got hurt while we were gone.”

“Um…sorry?” Daisy offered, seeming bewildered by her reaction – no doubt, she was viewing it as an _overreaction_.

Fitz stepped forward then, giving Deke a bit of a look as he questioned, “Did you do something else dumb?” However, even as he said the words, he was obviously inspecting Deke, undoubtedly looking for a cast or a bandage, something to indicate where his injury was.

“No, no, I’m fine!” Deke told them quickly, shaking his head.

“Actually,” Daisy said suddenly, seemingly taking the opportunity to bring home just how bad of a decision it was for them to leave, getting one last reprimand in, “he needed surgery, and Simmons wasn’t here to perform it, so Mack and Piper did.”

Jemma whirled to face her, eyes wide as she demanded, “ _What_?” She couldn’t help the slightly shrill tone to her voice as she reminded Daisy, “Neither of them is a doctor! _Anything_ could’ve gone wrong! What were you thinking?” She directed the last bit at Mack, unable to wrap her mind around the idea of an engineer and an agent that had said herself that she didn’t “do science” performing an operation on her grandson.

Daisy crossed her arms over her chest, replying, “Well, we had to make do with what we had since you weren’t here.” However, when Jemma felt a great surge of guilt that without a doubt was showing on her face, Daisy frowned a bit, her arms loosening and ultimately dropping to her sides.

Turning to Deke, Jemma apologized softly, “Oh Deke, I’m so _sorry_.”

Fitz clapped a hand on his uninjured shoulder, asking lowly, “You sure you’re okay? What’d you do to need surgery anyway?”

Deke let out a breath in a huff, narrowing his eyes as he shot back, “Why do you think it’s something that _I_ did?” When Fitz simply gave him a look in response, he grumbled under his breath, “Fine, I got shot.” Then, lowering his voice even further, he added, “By not listening to Daisy.”

Jemma couldn’t help the gasp that she let out at that, clapping a hand over her mouth as she imagined it, imagined Deke getting _shot_ , bleeding and in pain and needing _someone_ to be there to help him, and she was gone; she hadn’t _been_ there. Stepping closer to Deke, she removed her hand from her mouth, instead cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here, Deke. Are you sure you’re alright?”

He sighed, gently pushing away their hands before taking a step back and promising, “Guys, I’m not on my deathbed or something. I’m alright, okay?”

“Okay,” Daisy broke in suddenly, “what is going on?”

At the same time, both Jemma and Fitz turned to find the rest of the team (save for a smirking Elena, who was clearly trying her best to hide it – and failing, given the strange look that Mack was shooting at her), staring at them in blank shock and utter confusion. Well, except for May, who for some reason didn’t appear anywhere near as taken aback as the others. But, Jemma wouldn’t be surprised if she’d somehow figured it out before then; it was _May_ , after all, and she just seemed to know everything about everyone without really trying. 

They shared a look, but when Fitz shrugged, Jemma nodded, so he thumbed over his shoulder at Deke and explained plainly, “Meet the grandson. Unfortunately.” When Jemma then smacked his arm, glaring up at him pointedly, he rolled his eyes and added in a mutter, “Just kidding.”

A hush fell over the room in the wake of his revelation, then Coulson blinked, shaking his head as he asked slowly, “Deke is your…”

“Grandson,” Jemma finished for him, nodding, “yes.” She let out a sigh, then went on, “That’s why I feel so horrible about not being here… I, of course, would feel awful about not being here to help anyone, but Deke especially…”

She then turned back to Deke once more, but he held up his one good hand quickly to put a stop to it before she could begin, insisting, “You don’t need to keep apologizing; I’m _okay_.”

Out of nowhere, Daisy blurted out, “Are you kidding me?” Startled, Jemma glanced back at Daisy, finding her with her mouth hanging open, her eyebrows high on her forehead. “There’s just no way…” She shook her head, obviously still stunned.

“I’m with Daisy,” Mack put in, shaking his head, “Are you guys sure?”

Before either Jemma or Fitz could say anything in response, Deke groaned loudly and said, “Yes, we’re sure! _God_ , it’s not the most unbelievable thing, you know.”

Quickly, Jemma reached out to place a comforting hand on Deke’s arm, assuring him, “It’s just a lot to take in, that’s all. It’s not every day that something like this happens, after all. Everyone will get used to it eventually, I’m sure of it.”

When all they got in response was a few blank stares, Fitz shrugged widely and said, “Don’t look at me; I’m not used to it either.”

A moment of silence passed, then Coulson cleared his throat. “Well, as… _interesting_ as this all is…” Letting his sentence trail off, he met May’s eyes and nodded to the hallway outside the control room. She nodded in understanding, and the two disappeared, no doubt to speak about something in private.

Once they left the room, Daisy appeared to take that as a cue to the rest of them that the group could break up, startling Jemma by grasping her arm and gently tugging her away from the others. Curious as to what it was that Daisy wanted but felt that she couldn’t say in front of the rest of the team, Jemma went with her.

-

Fitz watched as Daisy tugged Jemma away the rest of them, and the two began speaking in lowered voices, but it didn’t seem as though Daisy was still upset with Jemma for their escape from the Lighthouse, nor did it seem as though that was the topic of their conversation, much to his relief. After all, Jemma didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of any of Daisy’s misplaced anger with him.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Mack said suddenly, drawing Fitz’s attention away from Jemma and instead to him, finding that he was pulling a disgusted expression, “man, this just makes all the crap you said while on those pain meds even _worse_.”

“What things?” Elena asked curiously before Fitz could.

“Ah – that’s not really important,” Deke interrupted quickly, his eyes growing wide as he held up his free hand, laughing nervously. “Right, Mack? _Right_?”

Mack crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow pointedly and giving Deke an unimpressed look. Then, he turned back to Fitz and Elena, explaining, “Spaceman here wants to kiss Daisy; he described it to me and Piper in _excruciating_ detail while he was doped up on his meds.”

At the same time, Deke groaned in embarrassment, and both Fitz and Elena made similarly disgusted faces. Fitz glanced sharply at Deke, shaking his head as he told him in no uncertain terms, “Now that’s just _gross_.”

“What? Why?” Deke demanded, narrowing his eyes in clear insult, suddenly not seeming so upset about Mack sharing his little secret with them.

It was Mack that replied, “What, with how close Simmons and Daisy are? That’s like wanting to kiss your great aunt, man.” He gave a bit of a shudder at the prospect, adding distantly, “Like wanting to kiss my great aunt Harriet, false teeth, butterscotch candies, and all.”

“Now, come on,” Deke protested, planting his one hand on his waist, “it’s completely different!”

But, Fitz held up his own hand then, hopefully putting an end to all of this Deke and Daisy nonsense before it could go any further. “No, just…just stop that, will you? It’s too weird.”

Deke scowled, muttering under his breath, “Says the thirty-year-old guy with an adult grandson.” Instead of offering a verbal reply, Fitz simply pointed at Deke, narrowing his eyes at the dig, but clearly Deke wasn’t intimidated, as he just shrugged unapologetically in response. “Sorry, Bobo.”

There was a beat, then Mack repeated in disbelief, “ _Bobo_?”

-

When Daisy was satisfied that they were out of earshot of the others, she released Jemma’s arm, immediately pressing, “So…how long have you known about this?” Her eyebrows were high on her forehead, and she was clearly still shocked about all of it. “Have you known since we were in the future? And, like, what does this even mean?”

“Not since we were in the future, no,” Jemma answered, pausing for a moment before continuing delicately, trying to avoid any upsetting topics, “Deke told me a handful of days ago, when he thought that I’d need to hear it the most.” Smiling wryly, she added, “And, well, I think you _know_ what this means, Daisy.”

Daisy’s eyes grew wide before darting down to briefly glance at Jemma’s midsection. She stepped closer, then asked in a whisper, “Are you…?”

It took Jemma a moment to understand what she was implying, but when she did, she blinked in surprise before quickly replying, “No! At least…well, not that I know of, no.”

She nodded a bit at that, then frowned and questioned, “Wait, so…is it his mom or his dad? I mean, he told me about his father, and he didn’t really sound… _Fitzsimmons-y_ , but…then neither is Deke, so…”

Shaking her head in the negative, Jemma confirmed, “No, it’s his mother – our daughter.” She smiled softly then, once more thinking about their daughter who had loved them, who had loved her _father_ so much, the mother that Deke spoke so fondly of.

Giving a short laugh, Daisy shook her own head and admitted, “Wow, I…I can’t believe this. You’re going to have a _daughter_ ; it’s crazy.”

“No, it’s not.”

They both turned in surprise then, finding May, who was clearly finished with her conversation with Coulson and had been passing by them when she’d stopped to correct Daisy.

Daisy tilted her head in consideration for a moment, pursing her lips. “Okay, yeah, May’s right. It’s totally believable. But… _Deke_ …”

Already anticipating what would likely follow that, Jemma insisted, “Really, he’s sweet and smart, and yes, he’s a bit…rough around the edges,” she pointedly ignored the scoff that May gave then under her breath, continuing, “but that’s just due to the future that he was raised in!”

She half-expected Daisy to have some other comeback about Deke waiting, but she didn’t reply for a long moment, clearly still letting it all soak in. When she did finally speak, it was to say quietly, “I’m sorry, Jemma, for…you know, trying to make you feel guilty about not being here. I didn’t realize how much it would affect you.”

Jemma, in turn, apologized, “And I’m sorry for going behind your back and not listening to your orders, Daisy. I still think that it was the right thing to do, but I can admit that we probably went about it the wrong way.”

With a little smile, Daisy teased, “Yeah, maybe I _can_ see the family resemblance after all; Deke thought he was doing the right thing too when he refused to listen to me.” Laughing quietly at that, Jemma gave a little roll of her eyes. She noticed Daisy take a half-step closer, then hesitate, before she abruptly pulled Jemma into hug, murmuring, “Congratulations. You know, for the daughter – whenever it is that she’s going to exist.”

Even as she returned the embrace, Jemma confessed lowly, “The congratulations may be a bit premature, Daisy; depending on when we break the loop and when our daughter was conceived, she may never exist in this timeline.”

Daisy pulled back just as suddenly as she’d initiated the hug, frowning worriedly as she caught Jemma’s eye. However, it was May once more that spoke up then to say, “Doesn’t matter; whenever or whoever your children are born, Simmons, they’ll be just as loved.”

Jemma gave May a warm, grateful smile. “Yes, I think so too. Thank you, May.”

“Does…Deke know about this?” Daisy asked carefully, glancing over her shoulder at where he was talking with Fitz, Mack, Elena, and now Coulson.

“We haven’t talked about it, no,” Jemma replied with a quiet sigh, looking toward her grandson as well and feeling another rush of guilt, “and I’m not sure if he’s come to that conclusion himself yet.”

They were silent a moment, concerned about the prospect of Deke realizing that if they were successful in stopping the end of the world, his mother may never be born and how it might affect him. After a moment, though, Daisy nodded in understanding, then broke the silence to say, “Well, then let’s break this loop and save the planet already – the sooner we do, the sooner your guys can get busy on making some super cute, super smart babies for me to play with.”

Glancing back at Daisy to find her with a small smile on her lips, Jemma returned it with one of her own, giving a little laugh as she agreed, “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	93. Post 5x18 - Jemma Tends to Fitz's Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by @simmppaa on tumblr: "Could you write a fic where Fitz got a concussion from Ruby's beat up and Jemma is obviously worried".
> 
> *Includes minor references to the Doctor, and Fitz’s mental split*

“Hey, careful with that,” Fitz cautioned the pair of agents transferring the Gravitonium onto the Zephyr, the infuser already safely stored away for the trip back to the Lighthouse, “we don’t want to be dropping that.”

He watched their progress for another moment, but then became distracted by a familiar presence to his right, and sure enough, a voice then spoke up, “I think they’ve got this, Fitz.” Turning to face Jemma, he noted her serious expression as she went on, “I should check you over.”

“Jemma,” he sighed, “you don’t need to do that; I’m _fine_. I’m a bit tired, ‘course, but I think we all are.”

In response, however, Jemma gave him a look – a look that he was intimately familiar with, a look that meant that he wasn’t going to win this one and that it was in his best interests to just give in now to save them both the time. So, he let out another sigh, this one of surrender, and nodded in silent agreement, allowing Jemma to lead him up the stairs to the upper levels of the Zephyr and then into the lab.

“Have a seat,” she instructed, waving toward a chair at one of the desks off to the side of the room. Once he was seated, she squatted in front of him, cupping his head gently in her hands as she inspected the cuts on his face.

Her brow furrowed as she thumbed at them, and Fitz advised her, “They’re all superficial.”

“That’s for me to decide,” Jemma replied absently, focused intently on her work as she was.

Frowning a bit petulantly, he reminded her in a mutter, “You’re not a _real_ medical doctor, you know.”

She rolled her eyes at him, flicking her gaze up to meet his as she replied, “Well, I’m the best that you’ve got – unless you would prefer one of the other agents with _no_ medical experience attend to you.”

This time, it was him that rolled his eyes, even though it caused a spike of pain to shoot through his skull. “I suppose you’ll do, then.”

Jemma scoffed at that, muttering, “Oh, well, _thank you_.” She stood up, moving to rifle through the supplies in one of the cabinets for a moment before she returned with a little flashlight, getting back down to eye level in order to shine it in both of his eyes.

He couldn’t quite help it; he winced and closed his eyes against the bright light, gently pushing her hand away as he insisted, “Alright, that’s enough – I’m fine.”

Fitz went to stand then, but Jemma grasped his shoulders and forced him back into his seat, leveling him with a stern look as she questioned clinically, “Fitz, are you feeling sluggish? Nauseated?”

And, though there was a weariness settling itself into his bones, and he had to admit that there was an uncomfortable stirring in his stomach, he knew what she was thinking, so he dodged the questions to tell her simply, “Jemma, I don’t have a concussion, alright? I’m _okay_.”

“You did hit your head pretty hard,” she reminded him, and he could hear a sudden strain in her voice, a thinness to it, as though she was trying not to let it break. He could also tell from the way that she suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes that she was fighting tears at the still-fresh memory.

Fitz reached up to catch her hand in his, whispering gently, “Jemma,” waiting until she blinked rapidly a couple of times, then finally met his searching gaze before he promised firmly, “I really am alright.”

She breathed out a slow breath, then asked shakily, “Please, just…just let me do this? I need to…I need…”

And, without her even finishing the sentence, he understood that she needed to make sure for herself, with her own hands and eyes, that he was okay, understood that if she hadn’t been able to protect him from Ruby, at least she could try to heal his wounds in the aftermath. So, he let out a long, slow breath, then nodded, biting back a wince when that caused a low throb in his head.

But, Jemma still noticed (of course she did – he could hide nothing from her, not when she knew him as no one else in the world did), and she narrowed her eyes sharply at it. “Fitz…do you have a headache?”

Trying to play it off as nothing, he replied, “Ah, just a little one – those punches probably rattled my brain around a bit.”

When her mouth tightened into a firm line and she briefly dropped her gaze to her lap, Fitz mentally berated himself for bringing it back up, for hurting her further when he’d been trying to take her mind _off_ of it. Jemma took a calming breath that had her shoulders rising and falling, then she glanced up at him and pressed, “Do you have _any_ other symptoms? Any dizziness or confusion? And you had better not lie to me, Leopold Fitz.”

Fitz grimaced, tapping his fingers lightly on his knee as he admitted, “Yeah, alright, I’m feeling a bit sick to my stomach, I guess, and…it is better to be sitting than standing.”

Her brow furrowed in concern, and she told him what he’d already assumed, “You’re must likely concussed, then. Though, it doesn’t seem to be too bad, thankfully.”

She grew quiet for a moment, then stood up once more, crossing to open another one of the cabinets. She shook a couple of pills from a bottle into her hand and ran the sink to fill a little paper cup with water, bringing them back to him.

“Take these,” she instructed, holding the pills and the cup out to him. When he only eyed them warily, she let out a low, frustrated groan and explained, “It’s just Tylonel, Fitz.” Relieved, Fitz finally took the offerings from her, tossing the pills into his mouth and washing them down the water. He handed the cup back to her, and she went on, “You’ll need to get some rest, as well.” He nodded in understanding, and she went silent once more, distractedly playing with the empty paper cup in her hands, ultimately crushing it and tossing it into the trash before asking in a rush, “Is he any louder now?”

Startled, Fitz glanced up at Jemma, his eyes growing wide. “What?”

She wrung her hands together in front of her, still speaking quickly as she explained, “It’s just that you’ve had another head injury, and I have to make sure that it…hasn’t exacerbated your previous injury and –”

“No,” he cut her off to answer, giving a little shake of his head, “no, it’s okay.”

Jemma looked at him hopefully, questioning softly, “Is it?”

Fitz paused then, taking stock, but he didn’t hear the cool, calculated voice of the Doctor ringing through his head; ever since he’d had the split where the Doctor had taken over to do what he had refused to even consider doing, he’d only heard his voice when he was feeling particularly self-deprecating (which he’d had plenty of time for while locked alone in his cell) and when Jemma was in danger, though he’d been doing his level best to ignore it, to shove it to the back of his mind.

Carefully rising from his chair, he cautiously approached Jemma, assuring her firmly, “Yes, it is.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, nodding and trying to discreetly wipe away a tear, and though he saw it anyway, he didn’t comment on it. “Good. That’s good.” Then, she hastily stepped forward, leading him to sit back down as she insisted, “You should stay off of your feet.” Once he’d obediently sat back down, she added, “I haven’t even fully checked you over yet.”

Attempting to lighten the mood, Fitz arched his eyebrows suggestively at that, asking teasingly, “Oh yeah?”

Though Jemma shot him a look for the comment, she was clearly trying to hide a smile as she lightly smacked him on the shoulder. “ _Fitz_! That’s not what I meant!” However, as she began pressing lightly on his cheeks, his jaw, and down to his collarbone, looking for fractures, she added with a little smirk, “But, if you’re a good, cooperative patient, we’ll see about _later_.”

A grin tugged at his lips, but when her fingertips pressed against a tender spot on his upper torso, it disappeared in an instant as he hissed, automatically recoiling from her touch.

Jemma leaned back in surprise, looking up at him in concern, but then she frowned and asked sharply, “Did you tear your stitches?” Without bothering to ask his permission (not that she needed it, not from him), she grasped the hem of his sweater and lifted it, reached for the buttons of his shirt and undoing them until she’d bared his skin and the gunshot wound that he’d suffered during their trip to the future. She gasped lowly, her fingers coming back stained with blood, and she glanced sharply up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that your wound was bleeding again?”

Fitz simply shrugged it off. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

From her frown alone, he could tell that she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t comment on it as she once more stood to retrieve supplies, coming back with some gauze and tape. “I’ll do a better patch-up job once we’re back at the Lighthouse, but this will suffice for now.”

He could feel her gentle hands cleaning away the blood, then laying the gauze over the wound and taping it in place. She double-checked that it was secure before she moved her hand, but instead of it disappearing, he then felt her palm briefly pressing over his heart, as though she needed to feel it beating against her fingertips.

Before Fitz could say anything, though, she’d moved it and was already buttoning his shirt back up, tugging his sweater back into place, before standing and beginning to clean up after herself. Over her shoulder, she advised, “You should go and try to get some sleep in one of the bunks; it’ll be a some time before we’re back at the base.”

It, admittedly, sounded tempting, but Fitz hesitated to immediately follow the instruction, instead asking quietly, “Will you come with me?”

Jemma paused, her back still to him, and he held his breath as he waited for her answer. They hadn’t had much time to talk everything over lately, and though she’d made it clear that she was in this for the long-haul, that she still loved him as much as she always had, he couldn’t help but worry every single day that she’d finally come to her senses and realize that he really didn’t deserve her.

But, then she turned to face him, and there was a small smile curving her lips as she agreed softly, “Alright.” She crossed the room back to him, helping him to his feet (despite his protests that he was fully capable of standing _and_ walking on his own) and out of the lab, down the hall to the bunks. Without either of them having to say a word, she led them into the bunk that they’d tended to use off and on for the past year or so, retreating to it every time that they needed to rest for a bit while they were on the Zephyr.

After she’d helped him over to sit on the edge of the bed, Jemma went to shut the door behind them, turning the lights out. She kicked off her shoes alongside his, then climbed onto the narrow mattress beside him.

Fitz held out his arm, and Jemma immediately moved into the familiar position, curling into him and resting her cheek on his chest as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close to him. He turned his head, pressing his own cheek to the top of her head, and he let out a content sigh, feeling an almost instant wash of fatigue.

He’d struggled with getting any sort of restful slumber the past few days that he’d been stuck in the cell, never quite able to find sleep the way that he could when Jemma was beside him. From the way that she relaxed against him then, from the soft sigh that she gave, he had the feeling that she’d had similar issues sleeping alone as well.

Just as sleep was tugging at him, pulling him into its depths, he felt Jemma’s hand sliding gently across his stomach, obviously searching for something, and he automatically lifted his free hand so that she could find it. When she then laced their fingers together, another happy little sigh left her lips.

And, despite everything, despite the ticking clock on the planet that was hanging over all of their heads, despite all the things that kept going wrong, despite the injuries that had his body aching and his head pounding, Fitz fell asleep with a tiny smile on his face and his wife held safely in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	94. Fitz + Deke Go to the Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Oh please write a fic where fitz and deke go to the zoo ♥️". 
> 
> This is set post the fic in ch 84, where Deke and pregnant Jemma go baby shopping; I wouldn’t say it’s completely necessary to read that one first, but it may help a bit with context.
> 
> (Also, full disclosure, but I have never been to a zoo, so that’s why I kept this purposefully vague - I know generally what kinds of things they have there, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.)

After Jemma’s promise to Deke the previous week that they would take him to the zoo (Fitz didn’t know the full details of _how_ this promise came about, but he imagined that it was Jemma’s idea more than Deke’s), Fitz found himself standing with Jemma near the exit of the Lighthouse, waiting on their grandson so that they could go on their “family trip”, as Jemma kept calling it.

It’d been over six months now since they’d found out what their connection to Deke was, and Jemma had settled easily and almost effortlessly into her role as a grandmother. Fitz, however, had had a slightly tougher time adjusting to it – especially since he and Deke hadn’t gotten off on the right foot in the first place.

But, Fitz had to admit that he was warming up to it and didn’t mind having Deke around as much, particularly because of how much Jemma loved spending time with him. He was coming slowly but surely to the grudging conclusion that Deke wasn’t _all_ that bad.

More than spending “family” time together, though, Fitz was simply looking forward to go to the zoo, though he certainly wouldn’t admit that to Deke. It had been quite some time since he’d been to a zoo – the last time had been with Jemma, about six months before they’d joined Coulson’s team, back before everything had changed. Fitz couldn’t help but marvel at what a difference a few years made; back then, they were best friends, partners, and would’ve (and had _many_ times before) denied to their last breath that there was nothing more between them.

And now, they were married, expecting their first child, and –

“You guys ready to go?” Deke called excitedly as he approached them, a big grin on his face.

 _And_ , most unbelievable of all, was their fully grown grandson from the future.

“Yes, we are,” Jemma replied with an answering smile, reaching over to pat the backpack sitting on Fitz’s shoulders, “I’ve packed sunscreen, bottles of water, and snacks, so we’re all set.”

“Let’s get going, then,” Fitz stated, turning to lead the way to the exit.

He paused, though, when he heard Coulson calling after them, “Fitzsimmons, wait a minute!”

Turning around to find him striding toward them, Fitz noted his apologetic smile with a furrowed brow, asking curiously, “What is it?”

“Daisy and May finally managed to bring back some samples of that foreign substance that keeps appearing everywhere that those supposed alien attacks take place,” Coulson explained, adding, “I know you had plans for today, but this is going to have to take precedence.”

“Does this mean that we’re not going?” Deke asked, turning to Jemma and Fitz, disappointment clear in his tone.

Hiding his own disappointment, Fitz replied, “Seems like it. We can always try for next weekend, though.”

“Now wait a minute,” Jemma started thoughtfully, “I spent some time with Deke last week when you had to work, so why don’t you two go to the zoo together today? It’s only fair.”

Noticeably perking back up, but trying to play it off, Deke glanced at Fitz, clearing his throat as he offered, “I’d…um, I’d be okay with that. If you are too, that is.”

Fitz wasn’t so quick to agree, however, turning to Jemma and asking uneasily, “Are you sure? What if you need me in the lab?”

Jemma scoffed at that, questioning with a raised eyebrow, “And when was the last time that _you_ needed _me_ to complete a project in your field of expertise?”

Despite her reply, Fitz stood firm, glancing pointedly down at her rounded stomach as he informed her, “That wasn’t what I meant, Jemma.”

With a soft smile, Jemma reached up to cup his cheek and insisted gently, “I’ll be fine, Fitz; you know that I’ll be careful. You should just go have fun at the zoo with Deke, alright?”

After a beat, Fitz finally agreed quietly, “Alright.”

Her smile grew before she pecked his lips, then she told both of them, “I’ll see you later, have fun!” Coulson gave them a nod, then he and Jemma began walking away, toward the lab, but they hadn’t gotten too far before she added over her shoulder, “And don’t forget to wear sunscreen! I don’t care if it’s cloudy, _wear it_!”

Once they’d disappeared, there was a lengthy silence between Fitz and Deke, but he finally broke it by clearing his throat and saying, “Well, alright; it’s just us, then.”

“Guess so,” Deke replied, offering him a small half-smile and a shrug.

After another moment, Fitz led the way out of the base, and to the parked car that he and Jemma had rented in anticipation of driving to the nearest zoo, which they’d found was about a half an hour away. He got into the driver’s side and started the car, but he couldn’t help but notice that it was a long moment before Deke got into the passenger’s seat, glancing at the car in fascinated confusion.

“What _is_ this?” he asked, immediately reaching out to start pressing buttons, changing the radio station a half dozen times before Fitz grasped his hand, shaking his head firmly.

“It’s a car,” he answered, adding with a sigh, “Put on your seatbelt, Deke.”

Deke glanced around in surprise, then laughed when he finally found it, saying to himself, “Oh, _there_ it is,” as he buckled himself in. When Fitz pulled out onto the road, he questioned, “Is a car like a ship? Does it fly?”

“No,” Fitz replied simply.

He was quiet for a few minutes, then commented under his breath, “It’d be a lot faster if it flew.”

Briefly, Fitz thought about mentioning Lola, but in the end, he didn’t want to encourage Deke’s idea that everyone should be getting around by flying car, so he kept it to himself. Instead, he turned up the radio a bit, though it didn’t quite stop the flow of questions coming from Deke for the entire drive there (road signs utterly _baffled_ him, as did speed limits, and Fitz could only hope that Deke never got the idea to try driving for himself).

Once they’d finally arrived and Fitz had pulled into a free parking spot in the packed lot, he turned off the car and unbuckled his seatbelt. With a sigh, he reached for his backpack and took out the sunscreen, explaining seriously, “If we don’t use this, Jemma will know.”

Deke didn’t seem convinced, eyeing the bottle as he countered, “ _Will_ she?”

Clearly, Deke hadn’t spent enough time around his grandmother to be truly afraid of her yet. So, arching his eyebrows, Fitz told him shortly, “Yes, she will.”

Apparently believing him (or not wanting to risk it), Deke held his hand out, allowing Fitz to pour some of the lotion onto it. “ _Ugh_ , this smells horrible!” he complained, wrinkling his nose and leaning as far away from it as he could get in the confined space of the car. “What do you even _do_ with this?”

“You rub it into your skin.” Fitz demonstrated for him, rubbing his hands together and covering his face and neck with it. “It protects you from UV rays.”

Pulling an utterly disgusted face, Deke finally slathered the lotion onto his face (a bit dramatically, in his Fitz’s opinion), wondering aloud, “Is this really worth it?”

Returning the sunscreen to the backpack, Fitz assured him, “The combination of sunburned skin and an upset Jemma Simmons is far worse, trust me.”

With that done, they climbed out of the car, and crossed the parking lot to the entrance of the zoo, where Fitz bought them tickets to get in and retrieved a map. Just inside, he immediately opened it, searching straight away for the monkey exhibit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Deke pulling something out of his jacket pocket, and a moment later, he spoke up, “Hey, will any of the animals in my book be here? I’d love to see a real live hamster!”

Frowning, Fitz glanced up from the map, catching sight of Deke flipping through the children’s book on animals that Jemma had bought Deke the previous week. “Deke, those are _domestic_ animals – the kind that people keep as _pets_ – and they aren’t in zoos.” Deke looked a bit disappointed, but nodded in understanding. However, when he still had the book out after a moment, Fitz added in exasperation, “Put that away, will you?”

Finally spotting the monkeys on his map, fortunately relatively close to the entrance, Fitz quickly folded it back up and led the way there first. From his first glimpse of a capuchin on a tree branch, a grin began forming on his lips.

“Wow!” Deke cried, stepping closer to the exhibit. “ _Real_ monkeys!”

Fitz was briefly impressed that he even knew what they were when he hadn’t even known what _dogs_ and _cats_ were, but then he realized that Jemma must’ve told Deke about them at some point. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted a monkey as a pet – I mean, just _look_ at them, with their little hands and their _tails_ …” Not for the first time, he then began calculating the best way to get Jemma to agree to them having a monkey as a pet, but it was interrupted by Deke’s confused voice.

“I thought you couldn’t have zoo animals as pets?”

Making a face, Fitz clarified, “Ah, well, you’re not _supposed_ to most of the time, but some people ignore those sorts of laws and keep wild animals as pets anyway.”

“Whoa, cool!” Deke commented, a grin ticking his lips up at the corners.

Fitz had a sudden and horrifying image of Deke somehow bringing a tiger or an alligator into the Lighthouse as a “pet”, and then _he_ would have to explain to Jemma and the others where Deke had gotten the idea that that was okay. So, he cleared his throat and corrected, “No, not cool, okay? That’s a bad thing, don’t ever do that.”

Deke was clearly confused again, but he ultimately agreed, “Okay, okay, sure.”

After finally managing to tear Fitz away from the monkeys, the two of them spent some time walking around amid the families with young children and the couples out on dates, the grandparents taking their grandkids out for the weekend. To himself, Fitz couldn’t help but be entertained by the fact that no one there would ever guess that he was a part of the latter group.

He spent quite a bit of the time having to constantly explain what things were to Deke, who was fascinated by _everything_ , especially by animals that lived in different climates from theirs, like penguins and panda bears. The animal that caught him by surprise the most, though, had to be giraffes – Deke couldn’t seem to wrap his head around just how _tall_ they were.

Truthfully, though, he seemed most astounded by just how _big_ most of the animals happened to be. “I mean, they’re bigger than me,” Deke pointed out when they were standing in front of the lion exhibit, his eyes wide and his eyebrows high on his forehead. Gesturing to the lion itself, he added, “That one could _eat_ me!”

“Probably would if you got close enough,” Fitz agreed, but when Deke looked at him in horror, he winced and imagined him having nightmares about being eaten by a lion and telling Jemma that it was because of _him_ , so he forced a smile and lied, “Just kidding.”

After a little while spent wandering around the zoo, they stopped at one of the vendors to get something to eat, despite the water and snacks that Jemma had packed.

“What Jemma doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Fitz insisted to Deke as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

Deke was scanning the menu eagerly, but suddenly he gasped and read aloud, “Lemon _ade_? What is _that_?!”

Offering the vendor that was giving them a strange look a weak smile, Fitz explained to Deke in a hushed voice, “It’s a drink with lemon juice mixed with sugar and water.”

“I want _that_ ,” Deke told the vendor, his eyes wide, as though it was something of great importance.

“Sure thing, buddy,” the man replied, glancing briefly over at Fitz, who simply shrugged as he passed him the proper amount of money for the drink.

When the man handed Deke the cup of lemonade, he took it quickly, hurriedly taking a sip from the straw. “ _Whoa_ , this is amazing!”

“Yeah, good, glad to hear it,” Fitz replied absently, accepting the bag of popcorn that he’d ordered from the vendor and leading Deke away so that the people behind them in line could order.

“Hey, does lemonade work in the same way that lemons do?” Deke questioned suddenly.

Frowning, he glanced over at Deke, finding him waiting patiently for an answer to a question that Fitz didn’t even understand. “Um…what?”

“You know,” Deke elaborated, as though _Fitz_ was the ridiculous one, “if you give someone lemonade, do they know what it means?”

“ _I_ don’t even know what it means,” Fitz responded dryly.

“So…you’ve never given Jemma lemonade?” Deke asked, looking more than a little surprised by this information.

Fitz was silent for a beat, then he asked, “Is this some weird future metaphor that I’m not getting? Because, let me remind you that you _definitely_ don’t want to get into that subject anymore than I do.”

“Huh?” When he seemed to understand, Deke pulled a disgusted face and cried, “What? _No_! I really mean lemonade! You know, the whole leave a lemon in someone’s bunk to show them you like them? Coulson and Mack told me that people do that here too!”

Snorting in amusement, Fitz clapped his free hand on Deke’s shoulder and told him, “Hate to break this to you, but they pulled one over on you; there’s no such thing.”

“ _What_? Are you…are you serious?” Deke groaned, visibly embarrassed as he briefly closed his eyes, running his free hand over his face.

“Very,” Fitz assured him, “try flowers or chocolates or something instead – that’s what I’ve always heard works best.”

Deke grumbled something under his breath, but Fitz didn’t quite catch it. He wasn’t very talkative for a while after that, spending most of the time petulantly sipping his lemonade in silence as they walked by the elephant and rhino exhibits.

But, out of the blue, Deke spoke up again, startling Fitz as he asked loudly, “What are those?!”

Glancing around, Fitz finally pinpointed the object of Deke’s enthrallment as _balloons_ of all things, tied to a nearby cart and in various shapes of animals featured in the zoo. “Those are _balloons_ , Deke.”

“I don’t…how are they floating?” Deke took a step closer to the cart, squinting up at the balloons as he clearly tried to figure out how they worked. “Do they have Gravitonium inside of them?”

“What? No, it’s helium,” Fitz told him, adding in a mutter, “which is about as limited as Gravitonium, really.”

“ _Helium_ ,” Deke repeated to himself, seemingly mesmerized by the floating animals, “ _whoa_.”

And, though Fitz didn’t support helium balloons in the least and thought that they were a waste of a limited resource, he caved with a sigh and gestured to them, “Alright, pick one out before I change my mind.”

“ _Really_?” Deke questioned excitedly, grinning at Fitz before pointing to one shaped like a penguin (he’d thought it was hilarious the way that the flightless birds waddled around in their exhibit, which had apparently left an impression).

The woman selling them handed Deke the balloon with a warm smile, advising him, “Hold onto that, or else it’ll fly away.”

Once Fitz had paid for it, they continued on their way through the exhibits, Deke’s earlier embarrassment over the whole “lemons” thing apparently forgotten as he spent a good deal of time watching the balloon floating above him, bobbing up and down with the gentle breeze.

And, well, though Fitz had never thought he’d be amused by a grown man excited about a balloon, when it was his grandson…he did have to admit that there was a little smile tugging at his lips.

-

When they returned to the Lighthouse later that day, Fitz was surprised to find that Jemma was waiting for them near the entrance to the base, an eager smile on her face, no doubt impatient to hear about their day together.

However, when Deke stepped in after Fitz, he saw her eyebrows rise on her forehead, her lips pressing together to hide her obvious amusement.

“Not a _word_ ,” Fitz told her simply, narrowing his eyes and pointing a finger at her, twitching lips, shining eyes and all.

She mimed zipping her lips, but she didn’t even really need to say a word, not when her obvious delight was written so clearly on her face.

“The zoo is so _cool_ ,” Deke stated with a big grin, now wearing a t-shirt with the zoo’s name printed on the front, his penguin balloon in one hand and a stuffed zebra in the other.

“So, you had fun, then?” Jemma asked, stepping closer to Fitz to slip her arm through his and leaning up against his side.

“Yeah! I can’t believe there are so many _animals_ and – did you know about _lemonade_?” Deke’s eyes were wide, clearly still amazed by the prospect now hours later.

Jemma laughed at that, nodding as she told him, “I did, actually. My sister and I used to make lemonade and sell it at a little stand when we were young.”

“You know how to _make it_?” He seemed shocked by the information – but only for a moment; his focus then shifted to something over their shoulders, and he grinned as he called, “Hey, Daisy, wait! Have you ever seen how big a giraffe is?” With that, he brushed past them to catch up with Daisy, calling over his shoulder to Fitz, “Thanks!”

Fitz lifted a hand in acknowledgment, then turned back to Jemma, asking curiously, “How did the study on the samples go?”

She arched a knowing eyebrow at him. “Oh no, you can’t change the subject that easily.” A grin making its way onto her lips, she teased, “All those times that you insisted that being a grandfather when you weren’t even a father yet was _weird_ …” She lifted a hand to cup his face, turning his head so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek. “I _knew_ you had it in you – _even_ if you bought food there instead of eating the snacks that I packed.”

Mentally cursing (he should’ve _known_ that she’d figure it out), he offered her an apologetic smile and a shrug. “Ah, well, I’m still learning, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	95. Evelyn's First Boyfriend - Original Timeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Hello! A Fitzsimmons prompt if I may. Evie's first boyfriend/girlfriend and how they react".
> 
> *Set in the original timeline, after the planet has been cracked apart

 

It was halfway through a typical dinner in the quarters of the Fitz-Simmons family on the Lighthouse when Evelyn cleared her throat pointedly to gain both her parents’ attention, cutting into their discussion about the state of things in the bunker as of late.

At the same time that Fitz did, Jemma turned to face their daughter, who was absently pushing her food around on her plate with her fork as she waited to get whatever it was that she wanted to say out there, prompted gently, “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”

Evelyn inhaled a deep breath, glancing between both her parents before she told them, “I won’t be home right after class tomorrow.”

Jemma exchanged a glance with Fitz, watching as he furrowed his brow and asked, “And why is that?”

“I’m spending time with a friend,” Evelyn answered.

The deceptively simple sentence, though, had Jemma abruptly lighting up, turning back to Evelyn to ask delightedly, “A friend? Well of course that’s alright! Did you meet them in one of your classes?”

She was so utterly relieved to hear that Evelyn had a friend – she was absolutely brilliant (though, there had always been little doubt as to that happening), but both Jemma and Fitz had spent time over the years teaching her everything that they could about math and science, English and history, given that the school system on the Lighthouse was laughable. As such, Evelyn stood out among her peers, and ultimately didn’t have many friends because of that.

“What’s her name?” Fitz added curiously before Evelyn could answer Jemma’s question.

Jemma let out a huff of exasperation and rolled her eyes at her husband, reminding him pointedly, “It doesn’t _have_ to be a girl, Fitz.”

“Oh yes it does,” he replied quickly, arching his eyebrows.

“ _You_ were _my_ friend when we were young,” she shot back.

Fitz gave her a dry look at that, deadpanning, “And look where that went.”

With another roll of her eyes, Jemma agreed, “Yes – over a _decade_ later.”

At that moment, Evelyn broke in to say loudly, “Owen!” Immediately, Jemma and Fitz halted their usual bickering, turning back to glance at her at the same time. At a more normal volume, and a bit nervously now, she repeated, “Owen. His…name is Owen. And yeah, he’s…um, he’s in one of my classes.”

When Fitz immediately opened his mouth, Jemma hastily spoke before he could, saying, “Well, I think that’s wonderful, Evelyn. I can’t wait to meet him.” Then, she shot a pointed look at Fitz, telling him without words not to say anything.

Though Fitz understood and kept his thoughts to himself, he did let out a grumble and glared down at his plate.

It wasn’t until later that night, until after Evelyn had gone to bed and they were in their own bedroom that Fitz began pacing about, pointing out, “We don’t even _know_ this kid, Jemma! I mean, he could be a – a _criminal_!” Throwing up his hands, then placing them on his waist, he turned to face her where she was curled up in their bed, lowering his voice to a horrified whisper, “What if he’s _interested_ in her?”

Jemma tried, but she couldn’t quite hold back her inelegant snort of disbelief at that, rolling her eyes in response.

“I’m serious, Jemma!” Fitz insisted, holding his hands out helplessly.

Finally, she gave a little shrug and replied, “Well, then we’ll support her decision, whether she decides to date him or not.”

He balked at that, his eyes growing wide as his mouth fell open in more shock that the situation really required (in her opinion, at least). In a voice that was slightly high-pitched in his alarm, he reminded her, “She’s _fourteen_ , Jemma!”

Sighing softly, Jemma put down the old, weathered book that she’d been _trying_ to read, and told him simply, “Fitz, the world has all-but ended around us, and our survival depends on a race of aliens that we can’t trust not to double-cross us at any moment. Evelyn never had a chance at a normal life, and nothing about that is fair – doesn’t she deserve to have some bit of normalcy, to experience a piece of what her life might’ve been like if none this had happened?”

Fitz clearly let that soak in for a moment, then he let out a sigh of his own and ceased his frantic pacing around their little bedroom to perch on the edge of their bed. A bit reluctantly, he agreed, “Yeah, maybe. I mean, she deserves the world, so…” He was quiet a moment then, and Jemma reached over to rub his back supportively.

She knew how protective he was of Evelyn, and how hard it was for him to let go, even just a little. She was, of course, wildly protective of their daughter as well, but she’d always been the more practical one when it came to things like this – Fitz tended to be a bit blinded by the image of Evelyn still as that helpless little girl that they’d brought into what was left of the world all those years ago now.

Jemma, however, was well aware of the fact that they’d raised Evelyn to be _far_ from helpless in this new world on the Lighthouse.

Finally, Fitz heaved another great sigh, and told her, “You know, if this _was_ a normal world, I’d be even _more_ against her dating some dumb kid.”

Despite the fact that Jemma wanted to remind him that they weren’t even sure that Evelyn _was_ dating him, she instead gave his shoulder a little smack for the comment. “Now, what makes you think that he’s _dumb_?”

But, he simply replied in a mutter, “Just call it a fatherly feeling, Jemma.”

-

Over the next few weeks, Evelyn spent an increasing amount of time with the mysterious “Owen”, whom neither Jemma nor Fitz had had a chance to meet yet. But, Jemma could tell simply by looking at her daughter, and how she grew progressively happier and happier with each passing day, that this Owen truly was more than a friend to her.

Of course, she worried about all of the ways that Evelyn could get hurt in a situation like this – she was a mother, after all – but she couldn’t help but be happy _for_ her, and to see her smiling so much and being so upbeat in turn made _her_ happy. Fitz was still protesting everything about it, which wasn’t any less than Jemma had expected, but had gotten far less vocal about it, no doubt enjoying their daughter’s joy just as much as she was.

Then, Evelyn came home one day, holding a _lemon_ of all things.

Arching her eyebrows curiously at the sight of the fruit, Jemma questioned, “Evelyn, where did you get that?”

Flushing visibly, Evelyn glanced down at the lemon in her hand, almost as though to make sure that it was still there. Reaching up with her free hand to tuck a strand of curly hair behind her ear, she explained, “Oh, um…Owen gave it to me.”

“Well that was nice of him,” Jemma said with a warm smile.

“Yeah,” Evelyn replied (a bit dreamily, in Jemma’s amused opinion), before telling them, “I’m, um, I’m going to go do my homework, okay?”

“Alright.”

Evelyn went off to her room then, closing the door behind her, and it was only a handful of silent moments after she was out of earshot before Fitz asked in disbelief, “He got her a _what_?”

Rolling her eyes, Jemma sighed, “A _lemon_ , Fitz. You know what a rarity they are now. I think it’s really quite sweet, and he must care about her a lot.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Fitz muttered, “Yeah, well, back in our day, guys used to give girls _flowers_ to show them how they felt, which is far more practical than a _lemon_.”

Raising an eyebrow at that, Jemma turned to look at him in incredulity. “Now hold on, you _never_ got me flowers.”

“What, that’s – that’s not _true_ ,” he insisted, his eyebrows darting up his forehead.

“When, then? When did you give me flowers?” she pressed, narrowing her eyes expectantly.

“At the Academy!”

For a moment, all Jemma could do was gape at Fitz, but finally she gathered herself enough to cry, “ _What_? Fitz, you gave me those flowers to try and get on my good side after avoiding me for three days because I had the stomach flu!”

Throwing up his hands, Fitz shot back, “Well you can hardly blame me – it was _gross_! You were constantly throwing up, like _every five minutes_!”

“Yes, I know, I was _there_! And what happened to in sickness and in health, hmm?”

His eyes growing wide, he reminded her firmly, “We weren’t _married_ then, Jemma, not even close – and I don’t remember reciting any sort of vows when we became lab partners!”

“That’s because they were implicit! When your partner and someone who you _claim_ is your best friend is sick, you should do everything you can to make them feel better, even if it means staying by their side and holding their hair back while they vomit!”

“Oh for the love of – like you would’ve wanted me around, whining about how gross you were while you were sick. Who would that have helped?”

Though an argument was on the tip of Jemma’s tongue, she bit it back, instead holding up her hand and insisting, “Forget it, Fitz; we weren’t even talking about _our_ relationship.” Sighing softly, she got up from her chair, crossing the small room to tug Fitz up from his as well and clasping his hands in both of hers. “Like it or not, this boy makes Evelyn happy, and we need to support that. It truly is remarkable that she could find _anything_ to be happy about when this,” she gestured to the metal walls of the Lighthouse around them, “is her life, and as her parents, we owe it to her to nurture that, rather than discourage it.”

Fitz pursed his lips, clearly unhappy about having to let his precious only child date a boy (one that he doubt already believed wasn’t good enough for Evelyn, despite never having met him and knowing nothing about him), but eventually he gave a resigned sigh and said, “Well, we might as well have this kid over for dinner before things go anything further, then – if he doesn’t meet my standards, he’s getting the boot, no matter how happy he makes Evie.”

“ _My_ standards,” Jemma corrected, arching an eyebrow pointedly when he opened his mouth to argue. “If we went by your standards, _no one_ would pass.”

“Well, that’s sort of the _idea_ , Jemma.” He grinned when she leveled a look at him, dropping her hands in order to wrap her up in an embrace and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll give him a chance, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him in return and closing her eyes as let her head fall into the space between his neck and shoulder. Everything around them could change, could fall apart more and more every day, but there was one thing that would absolutely never change – there, in Fitz’s arms, would always be _her_ place, where she felt safest and calmest.

And, more than anything, that was what Jemma wished that her daughter could find that someday, whether it was with Owen, or someone else; it was what made living in this hellish world bearable, and Evelyn certainly deserved that.

(However, that being said, if this boy didn’t meet _her_ standards, there was absolutely no way that Evelyn was going to even get a chance to figure out if Owen was that safe place for her, regardless of how infatuated she was with him – but, Jemma wasn’t about to tell _Fitz_ that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	96. Post 5x20/Missing Scene - Fitzsimmons Discuss Leaving SHIELD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Could you please write a fic in which Jemma and Fitz talk about leaving SHIELD after the events of 5x20? Especially with what Mack told Fitz about him needing to "fix" himself and what kind of man he wants to be, and how he would be thinking about it and so this leads to him and Jemma making plans to leave."
> 
> *Set post 5x20, but could also be a missing scene toward the end of the ep

“Something about this just feels…wrong.”

Fitz glanced up at Jemma’s murmured statement, and seeing her with a distant, contemplative look on her face and her arms folded across her chest, he set his tablet showing the Zephyr’s progress in space aside. “What d’you mean?” he asked.

With a wave of her hand, she indicated the computer behind her, which was currently running the samples from Jiaying’s bones, explaining, “I don’t want to lose Coulson anymore than Daisy or May does, but…but going against his will like this, using Daisy’s dead _mother_ to keep him alive, and with what Yo-Yo told us about her future self…” Trailing off then, she gave a short shake of her head, then admitted quietly, “I don’t really know what to think. Things have always been a bit…morally gray in SHIELD, but something about the team lately feels like a train going off the rails.”

“Yeah,” Fitz agreed immediately, relieved to find that, as usual, Jemma was thinking all of the same things that he was. As he crossed the lab to stand closer to her, he added, “I understand exactly what you mean.”

Jemma cocked her head curiously then, and he could only assume that she’d noted the twinge of lingering hurt in his voice that he’d tried to hide. “What is it, Fitz? Something’s bothering you – something more than all of this,” she stated knowingly, taking the last step between them to place a supportive hand on his arm.

Letting out a sigh and absently running a hand through his hair, he replied, “I talked to Mack, while he was fitting the Zephyr for the Gravitonium.” He paused there, though, a small frown tugging the corners of his lips down as he relived the conversation that still wasn’t sitting right with him.

“And?” Jemma prompted gently after another moment of silence. However, before he could even answer, she’d sighed and filled in, “He’s still upset about us locking him up in the cell, of course.” Shaking her head, she added firmly, “Mack shouldn’t be taking that out on you, Fitz; that was something that Yo-Yo and I cooked up, not you.”

Giving a little shake of his head, Fitz informed her, “It wasn’t just that.” He couldn’t quite help the tightness of his voice, nor the bit of pain and bitterness lacing it. “It’s everything – what we’ve been doing to try and stop the inevitable, agreeing with Yo-Yo that she did the right thing by killing Ruby, going there in the first place…”

“If Yo-Yo thought that Ruby was unstable and was a threat to the planet and therefore _billions_ of lives, then she absolutely _did_ do the right thing by stopping her,” Jemma insisted once more, still just as firm in her belief.

Fitz, though, stayed quiet for a beat, Mack’s advice to him pounding through his head over and over, even though he couldn’t quite give voice to them yet. But, then Jemma slid her hand down the length of his arm until it had found his, her fingers curling around his palm and squeezing gently, and he took strength from her, from the one person who always understood him, who always trusted and believed in him.

However, he still couldn’t quite meet her eyes as he finally confessed, “Mack told me that…that he thinks I need to fix myself.” He’d barely gotten the words out before he felt Jemma’s hand clutching his a bit more tightly, perhaps trying to protect him from the words, or perhaps out of anger with Mack for ever saying them in the first place. “And, well, that I need to figure out what kind of man I want to be.”

“Mack had no _right_ to say those things, Fitz,” Jemma assured him, the disbelief heavy in her voice, “we’ve _all_ done and approved of things that could have been construed as the ‘wrong’ thing in the past, but that’s something that we accepted the possibility of when we joined SHIELD – not everything that we do is always going to be one hundred percent _right_ by everyone’s standards.”

Though he agreed with Jemma completely, all Fitz could seem to think about just then was how Mack had been the first person to truly accept him after his brain injury, after he’d changed and couldn’t relate to his old friends in the same way anymore. When he’d been struggling to adjust to how his life had changed, Mack had been there as a friend and a helping hand, had been there to help guide him through it, and eventually accept his new circumstances and move forward with his life.

And now…for him to act as though they weren’t even really friends anymore, as though Fitz had become some sort of…of _monster_ …

Unable to fully believe what he was about to give voice to, Fitz asked Jemma lowly, his voice slightly hoarse, “Do you ever feel like –”

“We may not belong here anymore?” she finished sadly. Surprised, he glanced up at her, finally meeting her eyes, and noted the dry half-smile quirking one side of mouth up. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Of course I love helping people, saving lives, saving the _world_ – but is it truly worth the cost that we keep having to pay? We’ve been separated, nearly lost each other so many times… Perhaps we _should_ leave before we lose any more – I mean, we’re already losing our friends.”

Turning to face her fully and finding her free hand with his, Fitz nodded in silent agreement, though he still felt a twinge of grief about closing this chapter of their lives, about leaving SHIELD and their team behind – it’d been a part of who they were for so long now, it was hard to accept that it might not be any longer. “At least we still have each other,” he murmured, shifting his right hand so that his thumb could stroke gently over her wedding ring.

A real smile crossed Jemma’s lips then, and he felt her thumb mirroring his, finding the metal of his ring to caress beneath it. “Yeah,” she whispered, using her grip on his hands to tug him just a bit closer, then letting go of them in order to wrap her arms around him. “All we have to do is successfully stop the planet from cracking apart, then…then we’ll see about starting over somewhere else. Preferably somewhere a lot less dangerous and with a bit more sunlight.”

Turning his head to drop a kiss against her temple and idly tracing his fingertips up and down the length of her spine, he offered, “We can finally look into that cottage in Perthshire, if you’d like.”

Fitz could feel Jemma’s lips curl into a smile where they were pressed against his throat, and despite everything, a tiny smile of his own appeared on his face in response. “Okay,” she replied simply.

“Okay,” he repeated, cementing their promise to each other.

Now, all they had to do was put a stop to an all-but unavoidable future where they ended up failing to save the planet, subsequently living in a bunker and under the rule of aliens for the rest of their lives – which, truthfully, felt a lot less momentous just then than making the decision to leave SHIELD after dedicating the last fourteen years of their lives to it.

If they could do that, maybe they really could stop the future from happening – after all, he and Jemma certainly had a good enough reason to at least try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	97. Fitz and Deke Re-Meet - Post 5x22/S6 Speculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "would you be able to write a fun fic about Fitz and Deke remeeting where Deke interacts with Fitz before he sees anyone else from the team and he is unaware of what happened to the other Fitz so both are confused, then Jemma comes and is happy to see Deke didn’t blink out if existence, and upset that Deke didn’t even say goodbye before leaving. Just some fun family fluff!"
> 
> *Set post 5x22

“Fitz!”

At the sound of his name, Fitz paused in his exploration of their new base, the Lighthouse, whirling around and peering around the corner of the hallway that he’d just passed by. There, he found a man that he’d never seen before, grinning at him and waving, now picking up his pace to catch up with him.

Unsure what to do, Fitz hesitantly stepped forward to meet him, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to figure out how to handle this. They’d been back at the Lighthouse for only a few hours now, and while Jemma was putting their things away in the bunk she’d said was theirs, he’d decided to give her some time and have a more thorough look around – in the brief amount of time that he’d spent there before cryo-freezing himself, he hadn’t seen much of the vast bunker at all.

Finally reaching him, the man, who had dark hair and a beard, greeted, “Hey! Where is everybody?”

Fitz briefly glanced at the empty halls around them, wondering if this man had made a mistake somehow or was talking to somebody else – even though that was a bit far-fetched, given that he _had_ referred to him by name. “Uh…”

“I mean, I’ve been all over this place,” the man continued, seemingly not noticing Fitz’s obvious confusion or lack of response. He chuckled, patting Fitz on the shoulder and offering him a relieved grin as he said, “I’m glad I found you, at least.”

“Everyone’s um…getting settled back in,” Fitz finally replied, eyeing the man warily and wondering just how much detail he should go into. Obviously, he had to be involved with SHIELD somehow if he’d gotten into the Lighthouse, and it was easy to deduce that he must’ve known the Fitz that hadn’t made it out of Chicago, but _this_ Fitz still had no idea who he was.

“Yeah, I actually stopped back in last week and no one was here,” the man went on, widening his eyes as he held out his hands helplessly. “Big mission or something? I didn’t see anything on that…news thing you guys have.”

Fitz squinted at him slightly, making a bit of a face as he answered simply, “Something like that, yeah.”

The man nodded sagely, agreeing easily, “Yeah, I thought so. And hey, great job on saving the world from falling apart, by the way.”

“Er…thanks,” Fitz muttered, even though he’d had nothing to do with that particular victory.

Suddenly, the man frowned, squinting at him in much the same way that Fitz had been looking at him just moments ago. “You okay, man? You’re acting even weirder than usual.”

“Uh…”

“Deke?”

Jemma’s surprised, eager voice had them both turning, and Fitz gave a silent sigh of relief to see her heading toward them. Clearly, she knew who this guy was, and would be able to make this conversation (if it could even be called one) a lot less awkward.

“Jemma!” the man – Deke, apparently, which Fitz thought was a rather strange name (but that didn’t mean much coming from a _Leopold_ , did it?) – greeted her, a grin spreading across his face once more.

“Oh Deke, I’m so relieved to see you,” Jemma told him, stepping right up to him and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “We weren’t sure what happened to you after we’d changed the timeline.”

Deke returned her embrace with only a brief second of hesitation, admitting, “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen either, for awhile there. Half expected that any moment, the world would crack apart, or I’d just disappear.”

Jemma stepped back, her smile still firmly in place – until her eyes narrowed in an expression that was _very_ familiar to Fitz. Then, she gave Deke’s shoulder a little smack, planting her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe that you didn’t even say goodbye before you left! What if we’d never seen each other again?”

More than a little bemused by Jemma’s interaction with Deke, Fitz glanced back and forth between the two of them, the latter now looking properly chastised after her reprimand. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Deke sighed. “I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, see as much of this world as I could before I lost my chance.”

“Wait,” Fitz cut in suddenly, causing both Jemma and Deke to turn and look at him, “you’re from the future? The one where the planet actually did break apart?”

Deke stared at him blankly, as though he’d just spoken in a foreign language, but Fitz noticed a flash of guilt crossing Jemma’s features. It was followed by a heavy sadness, then a brief resignation, only for her expression to ultimately settle on determination.

“Um, yeah?” Deke said finally, glancing between Fitz and Jemma, as though looking for some sort of answer as to what was happening. “You’ve known that for ages. What…what’s going on?”

Jemma released a quiet sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and met Fitz’s gaze as she gestured toward Deke. “Do you remember when I told you about…our grandson?”

Fitz, of course, remembered very clearly the brief conversation that they’d shared on the Zephyr just days ago, headed back toward Earth. He’d sensed that there was something she wasn’t telling him, something that she was holding back – more than just what he’d been told about them stopping the upcoming apocalypse, and then coming to wake him up.

But, he hadn’t pushed her on it, and had given her some time and space, let her come to him when she was ready. After a bit, she’d done just that, and had begun to explain everything that had happened while he’d been in cryo-sleep, to explain about the version of him that had made it to the future, only to be lost after they’d returned to the present and saved the planet from its impending doom.

She’d also mentioned them having a grandson that had come back to the present with them, but she hadn’t gone into much more detail than that, let alone mentioned his name – and, well, Fitz had been in far too much shock at the very idea to ask.

Quickly putting two and two together, Fitz turned to gape at Deke, looking at him with new eyes. This man was their _grandson_ (well, their grandson from an alternate future, one where his future self hadn’t died and had instead lived to conceive his mother)? “This – he’s – our…?”

“Yes,” Jemma answered simply, taking a step closer and resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“A bit, yeah,” Fitz replied a little absently, arching his eyebrows and dragging a hand through his hair as he studied Deke. He didn’t _look_ much like either of them (he didn’t even have an _accent_ ), and he was decidedly…strange, but that could just be because he was from a future where he’d spent his whole life in a bunker run by aliens.

“What is _happening_?” Deke finally burst out, throwing his hands up and shaking his head. “You’ve known that you were my grandparents since _way_ before I left! Remember, you thought I was an annoying kid, and I thought you were a grumpy old man? What, did you get your memory erased or something?” When neither of them spoke, his hands dropped to his sides and his eyes widened. In a whisper, he asked, “Oh my god, did you really lose your memory?”

“I didn’t lose my memory,” Fitz told him flatly, folding his arms over his chest and glancing at Jemma beside him, waiting for whatever her next move was going to be. He didn’t really feel that it was his place to be the one to tell Deke what had happened to the Fitz that he’d known, after all.

“Deke,” Jemma murmured, closing the space between them once more and placing a gentle hand on his arm, “there are some things that you…missed, after you left. Things that didn’t happen in previous loops.”

Deke frowned, his brow furrowing. “Well, yeah, because the planet’s fine.”

“No, other things,” she corrected, shaking her head. “Fitz was very brave, he helped Mack and May rescue Robin’s mother, who unfortunately hadn’t made it previous loops. But…”

She paused, and Fitz noticed her blinking rapidly to hold back the inevitable tears, and he watched as she briefly bowed her head in the grief that was obviously still there, and likely always would be. Offering silent support, he slipped his hand into her free one, lacing their fingers together. Almost immediately, she gripped it tightly, gaining the strength to continue from him.

“But he was hurt very badly,” Jemma went on after a long moment, raising her head to meet Deke’s confused gaze once more. “And…and he…wasn’t able to survive his injuries.”

“What…” Clearly confused, Deke blinked, glancing at Fitz standing right there beside her. He shook his head, obviously not comprehending what she was telling him. “But he’s _right there_ , I’m looking at him, I was _talking_ to him!”

“That’s where we were, why no one was at the Lighthouse,” Fitz explained to him, giving Jemma’s hand a supportive little squeeze.

“Fitz got to the future by putting himself in cryo-sleep,” she told Deke, “and when he…when we lost him, we took a trip out into space to find the version of him that was asleep.” With that, she nodded her head toward Fitz.

It took a moment, but then Deke’s grew wide and his mouth dropped open. He gaped wordlessly at Fitz for a beat, then slapped his hand against his forehead, his voice rising as he asked incredulously, “Fitz _died_? He really just… And – and, this is a _different_ Fitz? That’s why he doesn’t remember anything?”

“He’s not a different Fitz,” Jemma corrected, quickly shaking her head, and Fitz had a feeling that she was so quick to correct him because it was something that she’d had to struggle with as well after losing the version of him that she’d married, that she’d met Deke with, that she’d tried to stop the end of the world with. “He’s simply the Fitz that didn’t quite make it to the future to save us, because we weren’t there anymore. Really, he only lost a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I…I guess,” Deke agreed hesitantly, eyeing Fitz as though he was now a stranger – which, in a way, Fitz supposed that he was.

And, with that in mind, Fitz cleared his throat and held out his free hand to Deke. “Um…hey, I’m Fitz. I’m…your grandpa, I suppose. Nice to meet you.”

Deke’s eyebrows rose slightly as he studied Fitz and his outstretched hand, but after a moment the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly and he took the offered hand, shaking it. “Deke. Where I come from, I actually called you ‘Bobo’, but…let’s just stick to Fitz, okay?” He paused, then added, “And, nice to meet you too. Again.”

“ _Bobo_?” Fitz repeated to himself under his breath, making a face. He glanced at Jemma then, and was surprised to find that there were tears standing in her eyes, but that a content smile was spreading across her lips. It was one of the few, truly happy smiles that he’d seen on her face since he’d woken up to find that everything had changed, to find that she’d been broken apart by losing him while he’d simply been sleeping through it all.

And, well, if the three of them being a family (albeit a very… _unconventional_ one) made her that happy, if it put that smile on her face, Fitz would gladly accept Deke with open arms.

“Why don’t we head to control, see who else is around? I’m sure they’ll be pleased to see that you’re alright, Deke,” Jemma offered, gesturing in the direction of the control center.

“Sure,” Deke agreed easily, following them as they began heading down the hall. “Oh!” Suddenly elbowing Fitz lightly in the ribs, he pointed out, “Hey, you don’t remember it, but you promised to teach me how to play catch.”

Frowning and narrowing his eyes slightly at Deke, Fitz asked, “I did?”

“Yeah, definitely. Like, after the whole ‘end of the world’ thing was over, you said you’d be _happy_ to show me.” Deke nodded emphatically, arching his eyebrows high on his forehead. “So, when are you free?”

Slightly bewildered, Fitz glanced between Deke and Jemma, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide her amused laughter behind her hand.

Well, it looked like being a grandfather was yet another item to add to the growing list of things that he was going to have to adjust to now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


	98. Teenage!FS - Pen Pals AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> amazingjemma prompted: "pen pals finally meeting each other"

“Has the post arrived yet?” Jemma asked as soon as she was through the front door, backpack still slung over her shoulders.

“It’s on the dining room table!” her mother called from the kitchen, amusement obvious in her tone.

Dropping her bag by the staircase leading up to the second floor, Jemma dashed into the dining room, shuffling through the mail until she saw ‘ _Jemma Simmons_ ’ written in the familiar, scribbled handwriting. Excitedly, she flipped it over, unsealing the flap carefully and taking out the folded paper inside the envelope. Eagerly, she unfolded it, and scanned the words written there.

_Jemma,_

_I wish we could go to each other’s graduation ceremonies too – I can’t believe that they’re on the same day! Although, to be honest, I’m not sure that my mum would let me go all the way to England by myself so close to graduation, anyway, so I suppose the point is moot. You’ll have to send me a copy of your valedictorian speech, though. And, before you ask, I’ll send you a copy of mine._

_Do you have any plans for the summer yet? I know my mum’s already planning to have me working with her in the yard every spare moment that I’m not waiting tables. Exciting, I know. Don’t be too jealous, now. From past years, I imagine that your summer’s going to be a lot more exciting than mine. I’m still pretty envious of that trip your family took to Italy, I’ll have you know. The thought of all the food you had there still has me salivating every time I think about it._

_I don’t know about you, but I’ve been counting down the days until MIT – as of today, it’s 105. Can you believe it? Just 105 days until we’re finally going to meet. Well…it’ll be less by the time you get this, but…you know what I mean._

_Just thinking about all the things we can do, the experiments, the Doctor Who marathons, having an argument that doesn’t take two weeks to finish…_

_I can’t wait._

_You?_

_Fitz_

“Of _course_ ,” Jemma mumbled to herself as she finished Fitz’s letter, rolling her eyes at the thought that she _wasn’t_ excited to finally meet her longtime pen pal in person. It _had_ been six years, after all – she wouldn’t still be talking to him if she wasn’t at least slightly interested in meeting him!

She’d been in her last year of primary school when her class had become part of a project connecting students as pen pals across the UK. At the time, she hadn’t been very interested in the idea, and had instead been more concerned with her school work and learning everything that she possibly could about her passion in life, science.

However, when she’d been paired up with a boy from Scotland named Fitz that, amazingly, seemed to love science just as much as she did, Jemma had suddenly become much more invested in the project.

She and Fitz had exchanged nearly a hundred letters by the time the school year was over, and though most of the other students in her class hadn’t kept up with their pen pals afterwards, Jemma had made sure that she didn’t lose Fitz simply because they weren’t required to talk to each other anymore.

Though Jemma had friends in school, they just weren’t like _Fitz_ , who seemed to understand her in a way that no one else ever had. Over the years, they had come to know _everything_ about each other; they told each about their families, about their passions, shared exciting stories, complained about bad days, revealed secrets.

Jemma wasn’t ashamed to admit that Fitz was her best friend, despite never having spoken to him in person.

And, when they’d both applied and gotten into MIT for the fall semester, it was clear that it was finally their chance to actually spend time together. So, much like Fitz, Jemma _couldn’t wait_ – even if September did feel very far away.

“I can’t believe that you’re more excited about getting a letter than it being your last day of school,” her younger sister, Charlotte, commented as she plopped down at the dining room table and started spreading her homework out on top of it.

“Oh, hush,” Jemma shot back, carefully folding up Fitz’s letter and replacing it in the envelope.

“So, how’s Fitz?” her mother asked from behind her, and Jemma turned to find her leaning up against the doorframe between the kitchen and the dining room, her arms folded over her chest and an amused smile quirking her lips.

“Good,” she replied, “excited about the fall, of course. He says that he’s counting down the days.”

Chuckling, her mother teased, “Now, if only he knew about the calendar that you keep in your room, crossing off the days until you leave for MIT.”

“ _Mum_!”

“Sorry, sorry!” her mother apologized, holding up her hands, though it didn’t seem very sincere, given that she was laughing. “I’ll leave you be.” She turned to head back into the kitchen, but then paused and glanced back over her shoulder to say, “Oh, by the way girls, your father and I were talking about renting the old cottage again this year. Remember, the one that we used to visit every summer when you were young?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Charlotte agreed easily, not looking up from her homework.

Jemma, however, felt her heart briefly skip a beat as she asked slightly breathlessly, “The cottage in…Perthshire?”

“Yes,” her mother confirmed with a nod. “Goodness, you always loved to sit under that tree in the backyard and read your science textbooks until the sun went down.”

With a quiet scoff, Charlotte added, “Yeah, it was so _boring_ – you never wanted to play with me.”

“That’s…” Jemma started, her hands starting to shake slightly, Fitz’s letter still held within them. “Yes. _Yes_. Going to the cottage would be _wonderful_.”

“Alright; it’s done deal, then,” her mother told them, offering them a warm smile before she disappeared into the kitchen.

And, Jemma didn’t waste another second rushing up to her bedroom to sit down and write a letter back to Fitz.

Maybe they wouldn’t have to wait until September after all.

-

When Fitz rolled out of bed around mid-morning on the day of his graduation, the immediate excitement that cut through his lethargy had little to do with the ceremony, and instead very much had to do with what should be arriving in the mail that day, if his calculations were correct (and they always were).

So, with his curls still in disarray and his pajamas still in place, Fitz jogged down the stairs and called to his mother as he opened the front door, “Getting the post!”

At the end of their driveway, he opened the postbox and grabbed the contents from inside, hurriedly sifting through them. There were a couple of envelopes addressed to him, no doubt cards congratulating him on his graduation, but he skipped right past them for the moment.

Finally, he paused on the neat, curvy handwriting spelling out, ‘ _Leopold Fitz_ ’, and grinned at the sight of it. With the letter held protectively in hand, he hurried back inside and dropped the rest of the post on a table by the door, then tore into the envelope.

_Fitz,_

_Happy Graduation Day! (If I got the timing right – you never know how the post is going to be.) Congratulations, Fitz, and I hope you have a wonderful day!_

_Yes, I imagine that your mother would have some objections, but it’s the thought that counts. I’ve enclosed a copy of my speech, and I fully expect to be getting one of yours in your next letter. You’ll also have to tell me how it goes!_

_I’ll have you know that I can’t wait for MIT either, and I can hardly believe that it’s so close now, but still seems so far away. As for summer plans, I think that yours sound very…well, I’m sure that you’ll have fun spending time with your mum, right? After all, you may deny it, but I know that you’ll miss her terribly once we’re in the States. Don’t worry, I’m going to miss my family too._

_Speaking of my family, my mum told me and Charlotte today what she and my dad have decided to do for the summer. Do you remember when I told you about those summers that I spent at a cottage in Perthshire? Well, it turns out that we’re going back there for a couple of weeks._

_Do you know what that means? Fitz, we might not have to wait until MIT! I’ll talk to my parents, and you talk to your mum, but I can’t imagine that they’ll be opposed to us meeting up somehow when we’re so close to each other._

_Just think about it! We could be seeing each other in a matter of weeks, rather than months!_

_Oh Fitz, write me back as soon as you can, alright? I want to know as soon as possible if it’s going to work out, and then we can start making plans._

_Talk to you soon (and hopefully, see you soon!)._

_Jemma_

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Fitz whispered under his breath, the hand holding the letter dropping to his side as his wide eyes stared straight ahead.

Jemma was going to be in _Scotland_.

Jemma was going to be in Scotland _soon_.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he repeated, his free hand coming up to drag through his hair, and he struggled to catch his breath for a moment. This felt too good to be true.

Ever since he’d gotten that first letter from her back when he was eleven, Jemma Simmons had been Fitz’s best friend in the whole world. There was something about her, something _unique_ , that he’d never been able to find in the any of the kids that he went to school with. Seemingly without any effort at all, as though it was as easy to her as breathing, she simply _got_ him.

They liked all of the same things, they had intelligent conversations (and arguments), he knew that he could trust her with anything, and she always seemed to know exactly what to say. She was, without a doubt, the most incredible person that he’d ever known, and he’d been fortunate enough to be paired up with her all that time ago, out of all the other kids involved with the pen pal project.

Truthfully, Fitz couldn’t help but feel sometimes like the luckiest person on the planet because of that.

He’d been keeping a constant countdown of the days left until they arrived at MIT and could finally meet, the date circled on his calendar in red ink, but to think that it could be so much sooner…

“Mum!” Fitz called, unable to help the slightly frantic tone to his voice as he began to glance around for her, hurrying into the living room, then the kitchen, which were both empty. “Mum, where are you?”

Just barely, he heard, “Out here!” through one of the open windows in the kitchen.

Hastily, Fitz went back through the house to get to the front door, stepping outside once more and going around the side of the house to get to the backyard. His mother was on her knees there in the grass, working in her garden, but she glanced up at his approach.

Squinting in the sunlight from beneath her wide-brimmed hand, and holding a hand up to shield her eyes, she asked in concern, “What is the _matter_ , Leo? You came running out here like a bat out of hell.”

“ _Jemma_ ,” Fitz gasped as he fought to catch his breath, weakly waving the letter, “summer – Perthshire – Scotland – _here_.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but then a little smile began to tug at her lips. “ _Ah_. So, Jemma’s coming to Perthshire over the summer?” When he nodded quickly, she gave an understanding nod of her own. “Well, what do you know?”

Making a face in his frustration, Fitz gestured to his letter with his free hand, asking pointedly, “ _So_? Can I…I can go meet her? I’ll make sure to get the time off of work well in advance, and I promise I’ll help you with the yard work every other day I have off, okay?”

His mother laughed, shaking her head and waving a hand at him. “Oh Leo, sweetheart, of _course_ you can go. I can’t imagine having any reason against you finally meeting that sweet girl.”

Fitz let out a long, relieved breath, his shoulders sagging with it. “ _Mum_ , thank you. _Thank you_.”

Chuckling to herself, she replied, “Of course, dear,” even as she went back to her gardening.

For a moment, Fitz just stared dazedly down at Jemma’s letter in his slightly shaky hands, his mind struggling to catch up to what was now his reality. Suddenly, any excitement that he had for his graduation later that day had vanished, instead every ounce of the emotion in his body going to what would be occurring in a matter of weeks.

_He was finally going to meet Jemma._

-

It was a handful of weeks and the exchange of several increasingly excited letters later that Jemma found herself standing in front of the little closet in her room at the cottage in Perthshire. Fidgeting anxiously with the hem of her tank top, she admitted over her shoulder, “I…don’t know what to wear.”

On her bed, Charlotte gave a little, amused scoff. “Clothes would probably be a good idea,” she teased.

Jemma groaned at the very unhelpful answer, whirling on her heel and planting on her hips to glare at her sister. “ _Charlotte_!”

“Fine, fine,” she replied, hopping off of the bed and coming to stand beside Jemma in front of the closet. She leafed through the clothes hanging there that Jemma had brought with her, humming in consideration every so often. Finally, she offered, “What about this?”

“Really?” Jemma asked hesitantly, taking the hanger from Charlotte, on which a white, floral-patterned sundress was hanging. “You think I should wear a dress?”

Charlotte shrugged expressively, shaking her head. “Well I _don’t know_ , Jem. I’m not sure if you just want to look nice, or if you want to look cute, or –”

“ _Cute_?” Jemma repeated, her voice raising an octave as her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Why would I want to look _cute_? Fitz is just – he’s my _friend_. It’s not…it’s not like that, Char.”

Shooting her a slightly incredulous look, Charlotte replied flatly, “Okay. Sure.” She was quiet a moment, then said, “But, I still think you should wear the dress.”

Jemma glanced down at the dress still in her hands, considering it. “Well…”

“And, I think it’d look great with those strappy sandals that you were wearing the other day,” Charlotte added pointedly, arching her eyebrows at her.

Spending another moment gazing down at the dress, Jemma then nodded in agreement. “Okay. Okay, I’ll…try it on, at least.”

“Good.” Charlotte flopped back on her bed as she began moving about the room, gathering the sandals and the bag of makeup that she’d brought on vacation with her. She’d just sat down at the desk in her room and started in on her makeup when Charlotte spoke up once more to say thoughtfully, “You know, I _still_ can’t believe that you’ve talked to this guy for six years, and you don’t have any idea what he looks like.”

Frowning and pausing in the process of applying her eyeshadow, Jemma reminded her, “What he looks like isn’t important, Char; I don’t need to know that to know that Fitz is a wonderful person.”

It was quiet for a moment, but then Charlotte replied, “Oh yeah? Well, try saying that to me again if he’s cute.”

The image of her rolling her eyes was reflected back to Jemma in the little mirror that she was using to apply her makeup (though, she refused to acknowledge the light flush that she could also see spreading across her cheeks). “Don’t you have something better to be doing?”

Without missing a beat, Charlotte answered simply, “Not really.”

Letting out a little huff, Jemma shook her head at her sister and went back to getting ready. She only had so much time before Fitz would be there, after all.

-

“ _Shit, shit, shit_ ,” Fitz whispered to himself under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he stared helplessly into his closet. Everything had been going _perfectly_ that morning, not a hitch in sight – up until he’d gone to get dressed and realized that he didn’t have the first clue what to wear.

Was there some kind of dress code for meeting your pen pal, for meeting the person that you considered to be your best friend in the whole world for the first time?

…Should he wear a tie?

“Leo?”

Startled, Fitz glanced over at the door to his bedroom, finding his mother peering in through the small gap between it and the doorframe. He saw her brow furrow in concern, just before she pushed the door open further so that she could step into the room with him.

“If you don’t leave soon, you’ll be late,” she reminded him.

Sighing heavily, Fitz planted his hands on his hips and replied, “I _know_ , Mum. I just…” Trailing off, he waved a helpless hand toward his closet.

His mother glanced between him and his open closet for a moment, then understanding lit her expression. “ _Ah_. Having trouble deciding what to wear?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he dropped his hands to his sides.

Taking a couple of steps so that she was standing beside him, his mother placed a supportive hand on his shoulder and told him gently, “Leo, just be yourself. Jemma already knows just about everything there is to know about you, right? And she likes you for who that person is; I doubt that she’ll change her mind about you just because of what you’re _wearing_.”

Though Fitz knew that his mother was just trying to ease his worries, he definitely did not agree with her and in fact found her words very unhelpful. What if Jemma did change her mind about him just because of what he was wearing?

“Thanks, Mum,” he muttered, “I’ll…um, be down in a couple minutes, alright?”

“Alright,” she agreed, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before leaving his room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

After another handful of minutes spent agonizing over the decision, Fitz finally just went with jeans and the MIT t-shirt that his mother had ordered online for him after he’d been accepted. He figured that that had to be safe enough, given that it was something that he and Jemma had in common.

Stopping briefly to run a comb through his messy curls, Fitz then rushed downstairs, accepting the keys to his mother’s car from her with the explicit promise to be careful. Already half out the door, he called over his shoulder, “Bye, Mum! I’ll be back later!”

“Call me when you’re leaving Jemma’s!” she reminded him, and once he’d agreed, he shut the front door behind him and jogged down the driveway to where her car was parked.

Opening the door and climbing in, Fitz had to take a moment to grip the steering wheel and catch his breath as his current reality hit him like a ton of bricks. He was on his way to finally, actually meet Jemma in person.

-

Checking her watch yet again, Jemma turned for another pace around the living room, wringing her hands together in front of her. She shot a glance out the front windows of the cottage, which had a clear view of the stone driveway and the road leading up to it, but they were still empty.

“Calm down, Jem – you’re going to wear a rut in the floorboards,” Charlotte commented from where she was now sprawled on the couch, reading a book (or, possibly pretending to read a book while she watched her sister quietly freak out – Jemma wasn’t quite sure).

“He’s late,” Jemma explained, pausing in her pacing to turn fully to Charlotte, gesturing to her watch. “He was supposed to be here for noon.”

Charlotte glanced over at a clock on the wall, her eyebrows darting up as she pointed out, “ _Jemma_ , that was ten minutes ago. Give the boy a break, will you?”

“I know, I know, I’m just…anxious,” Jemma confessed, bouncing on her toes slightly and turning back around to gaze out the window. What if he had decided not to come? What if he didn’t want to meet her anymore? Or, even worse, what if something had happened to him on his way there?

Laughing lightly, Charlotte teased, “Could’ve fooled me. Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon. Why don’t you come sit down and stop pacing, though? You’re only making yourself more anxious.”

Darting one last glance out the window, Jemma sighed and agreed, “Alright.” She was relieved to have Charlotte there to keep her calm, at least; her parents had gone to spend some time with the couple that rented the cottage next door, who they’d befriended when her family used to vacation there years ago. She knew that they were giving her and Fitz space, trying not overwhelm him (while not giving them _too_ much space, as they’d said, much to her embarrassment), but if Charlotte hadn’t been there, she would’ve been likely to descend into full-on panic mode.

Just as she was about to perch on the couch beside her sister, she heard the familiar crunch of tires on the driveway, and her heart immediately lurched into her throat.

“He’s _here_ ,” she gasped, whirling back around and hurrying to the front door.

Her hands were shaking horribly as she grasped the doorknob and turned it, and she felt her breath catch in her throat when she threw open the door and caught sight of him just closing the car door ebhind. Then, he turned to face her, and a brilliant smile spread across her lips.

“ _Fitz_ ,” she breathed.

An awed grin tugged at his lips in response, and she could just barely hear him murmur, “ _Jemma_.”

And then, as though a switch had been flicked, she was moving, jogging down the porch steps and racing toward him, throwing her arms around him in a hug. His arms automatically came up to catch her, to return her embrace, and even though it was their first time meeting face-to-face, you would’ve never known it – Jemma was quite sure that she’d never been so instantly comfortable around anyone in her whole life.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Jemma mumbled into his shoulder, giving a little shake of her head. He was so warm and solid and _real_ , and she just couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that it was really _him._ “I can’t believe I’m _hugging_ you.”

“I know, I know,” Fitz said, his arms tightening briefly around her waist. “ _God_ , Jemma…”

Unable quite help it, Jemma felt a little shiver race up her spine at hearing him whisper her name so close to her ear, and clung to him a bit more fiercely. For a moment, she wasn’t even sure that she could let go, not now that she finally had him right there in front of her.

Finally, though, she forced herself to release him, taking a half-step back to get a better look at him up close. He had curly hair and the bluest eyes that she’d ever seen, and his smile was shy and awkward in a way that made her heart do a strange little flip in her chest. When she noticed his t-shirt, though, she laughed, reaching out to poke the words in the middle of his chest. “MIT, huh? Couldn’t wait till September?”

He chuckled, a light flush spreading across his cheeks that had her smile growing. Reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, he replied, “Ah, I guess, yeah.” Fitz cleared his throat then, the flush reaching his ears now as he dropped his gaze to the driveway between them and mumbled, “You, ah, you look really…nice.”

“ _Oh_.” Jemma felt her own cheeks warming then as she absently grasped at the skirt of her dress. “Thank you, Fitz.” There was a beat, then she thumbed over her shoulder and offered, “It’s…it’s such a nice day; would you like to sit out in the backyard and…talk?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be great,” Fitz agreed, nodding quickly.

Smiling in relief, she murmured, “Great.”

-

A bit dazedly, Fitz followed Jemma back into the little cottage that her family was staying in, still struggling to believe that he was finally in the same place as her, finally _talking_ to her, touching her, hearing her laugh.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to look like – he’d imagined quite a few different options over the years – but he’d never once thought that she’d be so…so…well, _pretty_. The way that her hair fell across her freckled cheek, the way that her brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the way that she just seemed to glow when she smiled at him…

It was all just too much for Fitz to take, really. Sure, he’d always been rather aware of the fact that the person that he was talking to was a girl and it had never mattered, but it was only just now that he was realizing that she was a _girl_.

“Oh,” Jemma said suddenly, abruptly drawing him back from the daze that he’d slipped into, “this is my sister, Charlotte.”

Fitz glanced at the girl that was basically a younger version of Jemma that was nodding at him in greeting from the couch, offering her a small smile and a nod of his own. “Uh, hey, nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Probably not as much as I’ve heard about you,” Charlotte replied, quirking a brow as her lips curved into a little smirk.

“Ignore her,” Jemma advised him, rolling her eyes and grasping his wrist to lead him through the rest of the house.

He felt his heart give a little skip as her fingers pressed against his skin, and he stumbled slightly over his feet. He heard Charlotte’s muffled laughter following them, and it had his cheeks filling with heat, but he resolved to do as Jemma had said and simply ignore it.

Jemma slid open the door that lead to the backyard, leading him out onto the little porch and down the steps to a thick-trunked tree in the middle of the grassy yard. “Here we are,” she said, and he felt a little flare of loss as she released his wrist to plop down onto the ground in the shade of the tree.

Briefly, he became distracted by the sight of her curled up there in the grass, her pretty white dress a direct contrast to the green all around her, and he was struck by how she looked almost like the subject of a painting or something. It left him feeling entirely underwhelming in comparison, not to mention that it had him light-headed, had his hands beginning to shake slightly.

Knowing that he’d probably been staring dumbly at her for too long, he cleared his throat and blurted out, “It’s uh, it’s really beautiful here,” as he finally dropped down to sit beside her. Folding his hands in his lap so that maybe they’d stop trembling, he threw a glance around at the well-kept gardens there, thinking that his mother would’ve loved them.

“Yes, it is,” Jemma agreed with a nod, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I used to love to sit out here when I was younger and do some reading. It was always so quiet and peaceful.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

There was a beat of silence then, as though neither of them was really sure what to say to the other, which Fitz thought was patently ridiculous – they’d always been able to talk to each other so easily, had always had a million things to say to one another in their letters. What was so different about doing it now in person?

But, then Jemma finally broke the silence to say softly, “I’m just…I’m so glad that you’re here, Fitz.” He turned to look at her then, and felt his breath catch slightly at the sight of her peering shyly up at him through her lashes, as though she couldn’t quite meet his eyes as she said the words.

“Me too,” he murmured, and when a smile spread across her lips in response, her eyes almost seeming to light up with her joy, his heart picked up speed until he could hear it ringing in his ears.

Then, she reached out to place her hand over his where it lay in the grass between them, curling her surprisingly cold fingers around his palm, and Fitz had the abrupt realization that there was nowhere else in the world that he would rather be than sitting beside Jemma Simmons, his hand held within hers.

And, he was also quite sure that now that he’d met her in person, his life would never be same – and he was completely and utterly fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on tumblr - I'm theartofbeinganerd over there as well!


End file.
